Brinstar Depths
by Paradigm of Writing
Summary: And then the spires rose from the darkness, twisted, tormented, and black. Samus reaches, she refuses to give up, but the roof is on fire, her heart has fallen, her courage has failed, and the night is unforgiving. Her chest tightens, her eyes water from the smoke, and her soul plummets. From the depths, her pain rises, and from the depths the nightmare of Brinstar remains.
1. Chapter 1: Premonition

***deep breath* I guess I am able to say I can thank my imagination for this at 12:35 in the freaking morning to write this piece and it'll be slowly chugging myself to write chapters, because good lord I should not be doing this. Who needs sleep? I don't! This idea came to me a little over a year ago, around March, where the only person who knows about it is Smash King24, and that's it. This... ladies and gents, is Brinstar Depths. Written in the style that now seems to define me as four of the past pieces I now have as main stories are written in present tense, because I like it.**

 **It has been a long while since I wrote horror for this fandom, when I genuinely feel it had been since Pluto Vacation, and this needs some good horror, action, and suspense. Also this is the second time I've written a Smash story with a male Smasher not as the main character. Icarus Chronicle had Robin and Peach, granted, but that featured Pit more. Here, by the title with that suggestion, is Samus! I haven't given her a story in so long and I'm so happy. And since Cross freaking Examined this story is taking place in a 'Smash' mansion, which I think I haven't done because it feels so generic. However, some just have to go back to their roots and in a typical Smash Mansion story were my roots that earned me nearly 50k views on one story alone, so let's do it. _Also,_ I'm taking some fanfiction adoption like Circuit Dead's name of the Wii Fit Trainers, they're Willa and Will, and since this story is to use the male character, it's Will. **

**I couldn't find a better cover for the story, so I used that sick looking fan art of the Subspace Emissary... (just wish I could edit some of them), oh well. I don't know if I'm going to do review replies, probably not. I also don't think I'll be updating this all too much as Syrenet really just needs to get completed much faster. I deleted Bandit of St. Bernard as I wasn't feeling it. This story shouldn't be too long [there's evidence of me saying this. Hold it to me readers. We shall get it to shorter than 20 chapters!]**

 **So, enjoy, Chapter #1: Premonition of Brinstar Depths.**

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 _Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you. ~ John Irving_

There's something relaxing to Samus Aran about watching the waves lapel the shore. She cannot exactly pinpoint the reasons why, but it settles underneath her skin and stays there, warm, comforting, and resting. The moon sits in its own silver hammock above, perched on clouds that glisten with the comings of rain and thunder and weather phenomenon. She sits out on the terrace, listening to the crickets, absorbing every sound that peaks through, and life is zealous. Life is rich, and life is wonderful.

However, life is painful. The scars sit and weave their way into people's storylines, though these human beings never asked once for their perfect visions to be desecrated. The gash on Samus's shoulder stays, and will forever stay as a bleach twist of sinew and tar till the end of her days - a reminder of the corrupt world they used to live in, an emissary, and she is unable to look at the robot who is so nice. He's caused the pain, and she wants him destroyed, but Samus Aran does not and never will run the show - and in that minute, the moonlit sky is not as friendly as it had been moments before.

A rose crown still sits on the blonde's head, and she almost smirks at it when she feels like the ocean is not watching.

She hears the murmurs along the walls, her win is not deserved, and she knows it but something sits in her soul that she's no longer bothered by this anymore. Chance wins happen and those who can no longer deal with them need to get their priorities straightened out. She runs a hand over her ribs where the arrow had barely hit her, fired from Link's bow, and there's no pain now. Whatever magical protection that saves the Smashers from being genuinely injured in battle on the stages works, and Samus is grateful. The number of wounds and life-threatening injuries she's sustained against any plethora of people would have killed her ten times over at this point.

Samus sighs deeply, resting her elbows against the terrace, closing her eyes and embracing the salty wind with open arms. Everything is so tranquil outside, away from the eerily creepy paintings on the walls, or the looming staircases with heavy banisters lined in ivory.

"You okay?" The voice is warm to her ears, and it's all too familiar. Samus smiles, and the added presence of one foot on stone, the other stuck in carpeted floors makes all the difference. The easy-going tone belongs to only one individual, and that's Will Forrest. She remembers shaking his firm grip, staring into empathetic wide eyes, and happy to have someone new joining the group. He and his sister profess a lifetime love for fitness, and Samus wishes at times – though she'll never say it aloud, the woman has manners – the Forrest twins did not push everyone to the absolute max. Her glutes still feel the burn, - "The burn is good," professes Will's sister, Willa, and Samus grits her teeth, pushing herself harder – but their effect worked wonders as she's vaulting higher, running faster, and lasting longer in battle.

Will's one of the new Smashers to join the group since 2014. Samus hates to think of the times, when thirty-two bruised and battered souls stumble back into the mansion, a high rise left vacant for too long. The curtains are shredded against the walls, candelabras ripped from the roof and shattered in a pool of glass in the foyer… Samus leans against Fox, a nasty cut lining down from the shoulder to the small of her back, crimson stains appearing through her Zero Suit, and she's tasting copper in her mouth. It's lining her gums, her clothes, her heart… Samus Aran does not like recalling those times. Master Hand floats in, the Smashers are devastated, and still there are some who cannot get it out of their head that they all had _died_ at one point. Death is a strange idea to Samus.

The fitness twins sit in the grand room by a fireplace, eyes wide, just like all the other Smashers getting told stories of bravado, destruction, certain doom, love, failure, and loss. Will's wide and gleaming emerald eyes glisten with tears hearing as Ness and Lucas discuss their separation, Kirby's loneliness in the Subspace world, and so much more. Samus leaves out the story of being rammed against the side of a research facility's wind tunnel. The pain lingers along her spine, but the blackness dissipates every once in a while. If Pikachu hadn't been there- Samus shudders, tongue feeling heavy.

She turns around to Will, and she's content. While he may not necessarily be the person she wants joining her on the terrace, company compared to being alone is better than nothing, so she'll take whatever she can get. His emerald eyes twinkle underneath the shadow of the awning above, a delicate rosy pink settling on his cheeks as he smiles. Samus admires the looks in Will, but she never dwells on any of the men in the mansion as she's found romance to be too distracting. She's seen what it has done to Zelda, and although the princess of Hyrule is more than competent at everything she does, the brunette can definitely be known to have a bad day once in a while because Link has broken her heart.

He's dressed in nothing all too fancy, simple workout clothes, but she can see his lean curves and muscles bulging underneath. Will steps up to her, and she hardly hears a sound, effortless and lithe on his feet. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just relaxing," Samus exhales. "I won a match today and out here is a place where I can relax and enjoy myself. You?"

"Going to bed," Will laughs. "It's almost midnight. I have a match tomorrow, actually, so I need the rest."

"Who are you going up against?" She can never remember the fighting schedule, as she often feels like Master Hand changes it on a whim nearly as much as Peach changes the accessory to go in her hair. _She –_ Samus – swears that the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom will walk to lunch with her crown, then at dinner it is some mini parasol stuck by the crook of her ear. Samus's wardrobe is quite easy to understand. They are classified in two categories. Things to run in. Things to war to formal events. Samus finds it disappointing, because damn her lack of style, that there's four dresses total in the formal event section, and a good hundred or more tracksuits and sleek jackets that'd make Mac drool.

"A free-for-all between myself, Palutena, Diddy Kong, and Greninja," Will says. "I'm only worried about Greninja, to be honest," he admits. "If you stay away from Palutena and her caduceus, she can't hit you. Diddy is fast, but I'm faster. Besides, he uses a _jetpack_ to get into the air. I leap and we match the same height!"

Samus giggles into her hands, and she feels completely out of place by doing such a childish action. It's as if she's been transported into a fairytale, combed in pixie dust with a gilded dress hitching at her heels. The walls deteriorate, lush walls of ivy and ivory that crumble into withered trees with rotting flesh and the stinking smell of a dead animal. Her expression sours, and the image vanishes, replaced by Will's frowning face.

"What's wrong? You alright?" His voice is comforting, but all of a sudden Samus finds that the outside no longer seems that comfortable. She wants to say that the inside seems inviting, it's calling to her, but she's going to let her feelings settle. A warrior does not admit they are afraid of something that genuinely is not scary. A vision twisted and broken, nothing more.

"I'm fine. Just… I'm thinking of before," Samus runs a hand through her blonde locks, hair pulled back into a ponytail. "The Brawl era."

Will nods, closing his eyes, and the picture is complete. "Subspace."

Samus's arms explode in goosebumps, cold chills sliding down her back and the moonlight turns into a wicked ray of maliciousness, malevolence bounding off of every ray, sinking into the bounty hunter's core till a dry husk remains. Too many robots surround her, and Pikachu's cries muffle into oblivion as there's too much machinery around them, so many robots drenched in crimson coats of the paint of their victims, soulless black eyes that bear into her. She's suffocating, reaching out for a light she can see on the horizon, but nothing makes much sense before the world is torn from her.

Falcon's assuring hand around her shoulder, hugging the blonde tight, smirking that they're safe, everyone is safe and Samus has nothing to worry about. The Falcon Flyer zooms past the tunnel, jagged bits of iron wire poking out like the maw of a landlocked leviathan, steel and copper, silver and gold, diamond encrusted graves for her to leap in when the roar echoes. It rattles the Falcon Flyer, Pikachu tenses, and the world begins to spin for Samus Aran.

She looks out the window, the world going by her in a blur where everything conjoins into one mess, and Samus lets loose a scream, something still terrorizing her thoughts. Meta Ridley bears down on the craft, and the glare of a fireball appears in the mirror. Falcon is shaking her, as she's blacked out visibly, eyes squeezed shut, arms trembling and then they fight, they fight the metal beast from hell. Samus sees the tattered wings of silicone and fiber glass, flaxen shards decorating the roof of the Falcon Flyer before the world is consumed by an all-eating mass of purple, amaranthine shadows where the wail vibrates against the tunnel that feels as if it'll collapse.

Samus hasn't seen the dragon in ten years, yet the scars weigh down her memory more than she lets on. She turns to face Will, who's watched the entire ordeal, eyes wide, jaw open and he's terrified. "Don't mention that to me," Samus grits her teeth. "Please."

"I was-" Will starts, but she's not having it. Samus Aran does not need another chauvinistic asshole like Wolf O'Donnell to be in her face, jaw jutted out and smirking at her the way he always does. She knows that appearances are misleading, and she's here with a guy that could perhaps be what she looks for, but there'll never be a peaceful, tranquil escape from the past that's broken the very foundation she stands on.

"I _know_ what you were doing, and _I_ don't like it." Samus's mouth is locked down, and the pain hurts, it stings deeply but Will's words are fresh and scraping the sides of her ribcage, pecking, plucking, a carrion with foul whispers among tainted winds and screams of dearly beloveds. "I'll see you tomorrow for morning stretches," Samus says dismissively. Will opens his mouth to rebuttal, and she almost feels sympathy for the man, but nothing arises in her heart. He's nice, but he's new, and those on the bottom of the totem pole need to learn their place.

Will bows away from the bounty hunter, neck a putrid scarlet with embarrassment tinging at the sides of his face. His jaw slacks, hands fall limp to his waist side, and he's gone. Samus squeezes her eyes shut and cusses to herself. She does not mean to push friends like that away, but it happens on her worst nights, her best nights, and every night in between. It's upsetting, when she actually thinks about it, to have something act as a switch to turn someone into a snarling monster rather than the cute and bemused angel from seconds before.

Samus hugs her arms tight, looking up into the moonlit sky, stars dancing into their halos of light in the cosmos, places she'll never reach, areas she can only fathom to go into from Earth. She knows that she's been there before, to destroy Zebes and encounter red soil and the monsters in the dark, but it's not like the blonde can jump into any ship she wants and go for a joy ride. Or, since she's in the sky, joy fly.

Faces come and go while the bounty hunter sits out on the terrace. Master Hand never discloses the reasons as to why some come and some go, as like Snake, the gruff Metal Gear agent quite intimidating, yet she's fascinated by him and his knowledge of combat, with guns that seem to be faster than the blink of an eye, bullets of steel and fueled with the desire to kill.

She steps away from the terrace, deciding that she's overstayed her welcome by the way the air tenses around her, clinging to her skin like leather and it's coarse, an uncomfortable feeling as if she's been sized up. Samus turns to leave, feet gracing the carpeted floor of the mansion. Sketches of roses are drawn on the teal fabric, and Samus imagines a bouquet placed in her hands – stunning, vicarious, vicious, deadly, and beautiful, just like her when she wants to be – as she's won something imaginative. She remembers that Lucas, the shy toddler, bless him, wanted sunflowers to be placed all over the mansion, but Peach wins the kid over by detailing romantic stories with roses and thorns, and it even swoons Master Hand's heart.

Her hand lingers on the wall, fingers still grasping out to the cold air, when the whispers pass over her ears. Samus pauses, frowning. The whisper glides from the left ear to the right, and then the whispers amplify. Her heart begins to pound in her chest, voices rising from underneath her feet in a voice that the bounty hunter does not recognize.

Suddenly, a world blips by and Samus's breath hitches in her throat. A delicate flower stampeded in a fray of chaos crumples under the footfall of a thousand shoes. Screams ricochet off blindingly white walls, the pallid paint warping into a foul, brackish green that mimics sickness, vomit, and nausea. A pool flows with fresh blood, a smell carried on the wind, dry and heavy that infiltrates Samus's nostrils as if she's standing there and being pushed into the crimson lake.

Swords clash and metal bits fly out everywhere, pain lacing a joint in the bounty hunter's wrist. She hisses, clutching the body part, yet no blemish appears, no scarlet lacing the skin, no bruise forming… as if she's imaging this all from within.

Everything comes to a halt, and Samus sees out on the terrace an image that strikes fear into her heart. A cold chill slides down her body, and she's never missed Will Forrest's company more than she ever has than in the moment. A lone body stands out in the middle of the platform, and the sounds of crashing aquamarine waves to a sandy shore still linger. There's no wind blowing, nothing but eerie quietness that creeps up Samus's legs and choke her neck.

She cannot see the face of the being standing in front of her, but maliciousness exudes off in waves. The head is lifted, and Samus looks into a void of emptiness, a plethora of colors dancing about in a manner that sickens her. A hand beckons her closer, and the whisper lingers before the apparition… or whatever it is, vanishes. She notes that the figure strangely looks like herself. " _The depths moan for you, Samus Aran…"_ the voice says, and then it's gone.

Samus closes her eyes, rubs them for good measure, and checks the terrace again. Another spell of calmness washes over the vicinity, and the noise resumes. Crickets chirp, the shores roar, and Samus's heart continues to beat.

She shakes her head, sighing heavily. "I'm seeing things. Great."

The bounty hunter double checks the outside once more, slightly paranoid, and then walks inside the mansion, done for the night.

Little does she know that the depths indeed want her, and more than that, they need her.

A clock strikes midnight, and the ground moves.

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 **And voila, there we are ladies and gents! That's Chapter #1: Premonition, of Brinstar Depths. I am _super_ excited for this like I am for genuinely everything I write, because there's nothing better than getting a blip of imagination at one in the morning. Took me nearly twenty-four hours to write this, but that's okay, I'm happy with the end product. Since I know my promises are more often void than not nowadays of truth, I'll only be updating this every other week because I really do need to give Syrenet and Vermillion Shorelines my undivided attention for awhile. I'm also upset as I can't distinguish between the male and female Wii Fit Trainers, because everyone assumes that this is a girl x girl shipping and it's not, because Robin and Corrin have genders yet we can't do the same for the Trainers? Okay, makes total sense. Anywho... please review and let me know what you thought! What do you think Samus saw on the terrace and what does the 'depths' refer to? I am so happy to be writing horror again, it feels like I've missed a long time friend. I will be writing this in my spare time, but not updating as I'm trying this strategy of waiting before posting something, which I really need to get better at than my hot off the press work to then edit later, but I digress. (I say that a lot lol). Chapter #2: Volition, will be somewhere between the 16th to the 22nd, and we'll see where we go from there, shall we? I'm already liking this project much more than I was with Bandit of St. Bernard. Thank you all so much for reading! Love you all! Bye! Happy 4th of July everyone!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	2. Chapter 2: Volition

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #2: Volition. I'm behind schedule from at least five days, but I've noticed now that while I get the chapter out, a good 85% of my promises on when I'm going to update never end the way I want them to. Granted, I expelled all of my energy into a 15k word count start for a new story in the Percy Jackson fandom, this one got a lot of side winded attention. Next week we should back on schedule with a third chapter, but by then here's what we've got. I did a lot of planning out with this one with a few sub arcs that no one asked for but I feel everyone will love because for some reason that's how it's gone. While the turnout has me slightly disappointed when compared to a few other stories I have, in the end it shouldn't be a problem. Thank you to Maxcy Leland, TemUltimate, and Metroid-Killer for reviewing. I hope I don't pale with this. Enjoy Chapter #2.**

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 _"I never do anything I don't want to do. Nor does anyone, but in my case I am always aware of it."_ ~ _Robert A. Heinlein_

Samus likes to think that she's smarter than the average bear. It's what Falcon tells her, well rather he shouts it at her as he's quite hammered at this point in the evening through their seventh rerun of the movie Titanic. He clutches the beer bottle in one hand – she recalls that it was his left – and a lock of her sunbeam hair in the other. It's Valentine's Day and neither have dates, and Samus agrees all the while she's kicking herself in the back because this is something since the Melee days she'd swear to never to do.

"You're smarter than the average bear, Sammy," he smirks, then takes a sip of the beer.

"Is that so," she challenges. Samus raises an eyebrow. Falcon's known for his quote unquote flattery – personally Samus views it as him being some Harvard dropout who _thinks_ he knows what he's talking about – but on Valentine's Day, even his words are nice.

So, of course given the high irony of the situation, she proves herself to not be smarter than the average bear and plops closer to Falcon's spot on the couch and kisses him. The F-Zero racer is caught off guard, sputtering slightly and rearranging his visors which he insists to wear everywhere because he can. When Samus retracts from him, her eyes widen to the size of satellites, the television is turned off, and she races away from the couch hoping to leap off the highest peak of the mansion. She ends up running with Wanda to complain about the evening – turns out Wanda manages to somehow get Ganondorf's attention, a feat Samus will never understand as she's always thought that the dark warlock or whatever he is loved Zelda so much he was killing to kidnap her. Then again, Bowser never proved his merit to Peach in that way – but Wanda turns it around another way.

"You're upset that he kissed you?" Wanda is taking a breather, a good yard or so away from Samus, and the bounty hunter has never seen the woman have to stop and catch her breath.

"Of course I am!"

"But you leaned in first?"

Samus pauses. "Yeah… that's right. Crap, okay, wait," she turns away from the fitness trainer who's now rolling her eyes. "This sounds bad and stupid but-"

"Fix it," Wanda tells her, voice slightly too strong. "Falcon has been rejected way too many times by the women in this mansion and while we may as well chalk up another tally on his poor board of failures, you might as very well tell him before you somehow end up in bed by the end of the week!"

The blonde blanches, and luckily to all things above she doesn't retch on the concrete. The quote comes back to play in her life, because at this very morning and during breakfast, Samus finds herself nibbling on a cheese biscuit that Kirby so excellently creates with skills that Mario – he's an _Italian,_ their cooking skills equate to Master Hand's powerful abilities – would be so envious in delving into. Across the way is Will, dressed down or up depending on who sees it and he's filled his plate sky high with fruit Samus is unsure are even words in the English dictionary.

Expertly, she tosses a nonchalant look in his direction, realizes his intent, and flees. Well, fleeing would be quite a strong word, so Samus prefers to think she's gracefully exiting a hostile and potentially dangerous scene. She tosses away her juice which is still full, grabs a napkin and begins to roll the biscuit in it. Will looks over and sees her, his face lighting up in jubilance.

He walks to her spot and sits down, setting out his milk for the oatmeal – "He's got extravagant tastes," Wanda defends her brother constantly – and only when he turns his head to give her eye contact, Samus gives up on trying to act like a mature adult and gets up. The bite he has taken spills out of his mouth as he sputters, wiping at his mouth.

"Wait, Samus!" he calls.

"Please, just don't talk to me. Not now…" she frowns, stiffly and briskly walking away. Samus has never felt the pain and burning in her glutes until now, and it's when she's proud that at the very least that the human being she's the angriest with gives good exercise advice.

"Are you really still hung up over last night?" Will asks, his voice booming throughout the crowded buffet. Every Smasher in the room freezes and tosses glances over the duo. Samus's eyes give off a glare that suggest she's found a place to put her foot, and it may land up inside Will's crotch, but violence is forbidden outside stage grounds. Perhaps she'll go to Master Hand and tell him she demands a one v. one cage match wrestling style match. Samus will pummel Will Forrest into next week.

Samus refuses to answer, and skirts off. Will's hands fall limply to his sides, defeated. He sits back at the table and continues to scuffle down his oatmeal. A shadow falls on him and he looks up. A cheerful blonde is staring at him with an all knowing smile, a plate full of pancakes and other miscellaneous food placed on the tray.

"Looks like someone's having lady trouble…" the voice taunts teasingly.

Will opens his milk carton. "First off, no I'm not. Secondly, Samus isn't acting quite lady like right now, and thirdly she isn't mine to begin with! What do you want, Shulk?"

The man, Shulk, looks affronted. "I'm not allowed to sit next to my best friend at breakfast?"

"If you're going to tease me about it the entire time, I'd prefer you sat somewhere else."

"Lighten up man… Samus isn't trying to hurt you. You've just offended her is all."

"And how would you know that?"

"I get to know people quite fast in this place," Shulk cuts into a pancake and dumps it into a packet of Will's syrup, as the Monado user forgot to grab one from the mounds sitting in the corner by the waffle maker station. "But, what's the matter?"

"I really don't want to talk about it. I already feel embarrassed for shouting it out in the middle of a crowded buffet."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have shouted it," Shulk replies cheekily, smirking.

"Why am I friends with you again?"

"I dunno. Remind me."

"Happily," Will scowls.

He leans back, not touching his food. He isn't feeling quite hungry, and it's bothering him more than it should that Samus is upset with him. While part of him wants to say she's being an immature woman – child, fits the descript rather – it isn't his nature to go and point the finger. Part of Will finds it endearing that he's had a woman stay angry at him for longer than four hours. The worst is someone he can no longer remember, but it had something to deal with a cow, a barn, and an accidental explosive that may or may not have destroyed the woman's barn, but that's for another time. He certainly doesn't want Shulk to pipe up to him about it at a later date. Humiliation has never been one of his favorite past times and he'd rather not start now.

Will thinks back to when he first arrived in the mansion. It had been a seven year difference between the Brawl era being ushered in, and seven years is quite some time to forge a family that allows no one in it. The very first person he meets is Mario, he shakes the plumber's hand eagerly and smiles a grin that still reflects off of the colors in his dreams. Second to march up to him – Will isn't kidding, she marches up to him like a soldier, but it's cool and nerdy and he loves her for it – is Samus who offers her place as an opponent to practice sparring with in the relief centers. Relief centers were coined by the swordsmen Marth, Ike, and Link during the Brawl tournaments where once a match ended, fighters would be propelled into the next round with little to prepare for the next fighter, so the room of expectancy and anxiety turned into relief of staying out of the battle. Will is wide eyed as Samus is gorgeous and all of this beauty admits to thinking he's a worthy opponent to fight.

Shulk creeps up and startles him during a horror movie – the Conjuring if Will's memory serves right – because Ness picks it and Peach reprimands that an eleven year-old probably shouldn't be watching those sorts of movies. It's during a possession scene that gives Will the willies – distasteful language is quite distasteful – and the blonde swordsmen does a leap attack onto Will's shoulders. Although it may be because of the popcorn hurricane that flies out of the fitness trainer's hands that elicits the glares from the other nine people on the couch, he believes it's because of the all not too manly shriek that Will cries out. He turns around and pops quite the punch into Shulk's jaw out of fright, half expecting it to be Link or Roy or someone of the caliber, but certainly not the blue eyed male looking back at him in shock as if he maimed a puppy.

Will gets an ice pack and refuses to back to the couch until Shulk promises he's alright, and then their friendship is born. A few sparring sessions where the blonde is able to wallop on the brunette seals the deal and now Shulk pops up at every breakfast, lunch, dinner, party, bar mitzvah, Christmas celebration, and tags along as the third-wheel on Valentine's Day dates which ends with the poor guy chasing after some other poor gal who all she wants to do is call the cops and get the freak with the luscious lemonade wave of hair to get out of her face… Will's still trying to teach the other guy on the complexities that is dating. Doesn't seem to be doing much good.

Shulk peels back the banana that he laid against his plate, taking a hearty bite out of one of the ends. "You should go and talk to her," he offers, nodding at Will.

Will scowls into the table cloth. "I'd rather eat my shoes than go and speak to Samus when she's angry."

"What'd you say?"

"I _may_ have mentioned to her on the terrace last night something about Subspace…" the training guru just wants the ground to swallow him whole. Maybe send him to some nether realm and eat sweets with corpses and bones. It'll be a much easier task than trying to have Samus be appealed to in forgiving him.

Shulk freezes, banana pointed in quite a conspicuous manner, so he puts it down on the table. "Subspace," he whispers lowly, giving doggedly gazes around the table. "Like, that thing that happened ten years ago and gave thirty two of the Smashers here PTSD?"

"You're not very subtle with these things, are you?"

"How could you tell?"

Will shrugs. "Just a hunch."

"Am I right?"

He pats the table. "Yeah, you are."

Shulk sits back somewhat. "I could see many reasons why that would upset her. After all, during the stupid thing, that dragon beast thingy-"

"Ridley," Will cuts in, putting his head in his hands, not quite seeing where his best friend is going with this tangential point. "A purple freakazoid monster."

"Right," Shulk points his finger at the other man. "Anyways, that thing… Ridley, bashed her into the side of an air tunnel. I'd be quite freaked out to if I were her. And besides, all thirty-two of those Smashers who were involved died, Will. I believe some of them died several times in fact, so yeah, she has the total right to be upset with you."

"Aren't you supposed to be able to give me advice. _Good_ advice I mean, advice I can actually use in the future?"

"Well even an idiot would understand that you should go and apologize. Mr. Game and Watch doesn't even speak and I'm pretty sure he would know to do that."

Will looks at Shulk and blinks a few times. "I don't think what I'm asking you is truly even getting to you. I should give up. Besides, I have a match today. Very well can't just go and forget about it. Master Hand will have my hide!"

"How did it even come up?"

"What come up?"

"Subspace."

The fitness trainer rubs the back of his neck. "Samus mentioned she was thinking about the Brawl era. Naturally, I gravitated towards that. Normal people would think the same thing."

"Are you classifying yourself as normal?" Shulk raises an eyebrow.

"Pleading the fifth."

Shulk places a hand under his chin and sighs. He's found that the trait of constant deflection of blame runs rampant through the entire mansion, crippled mostly in the adults and even a few of the teens and children who've suffered a lot. Others, like Mario especially, understand their actions affect a lot of people and events and take their words at face value. However, and Shulk wishes this wasn't the way it had to be, that Will wants to forget the conversation between he and Samus never happened.

"You need to talk to her," he urges. Will starts to rebuttal, but the Monado wielder is not letting someone override his quite valuable – _well,_ in Shulk's opinion his opinion _is_ valuable – insight. "It doesn't have to be today or tomorrow, or even a week from now if you think Samus is the person who golds grudges-"

"She hates R.O.B, Shulk! That's a ten year grudge right there!" Will argues.

"Besides the point, you have to do it or you're less of man than what she already may think of you. She'll cool down, and maybe if you win your match she'll think you're like this awesome kick ass battler and Samus will love you again."

"Samus doesn't love me."

"But you love her?" Shulk teases.

Will flushes at the ears. "I do not love her! What gave you that impression?"

"Only because you talk about her 24/7…"

"I do not!" the fitness trainer objects hotly.

Shulk begins counting incidents on his fingers. "Oh Shulk, like did you see her eyes today? They were SO pretty and SO large and oh my god I think I'm in so much love that I may just kiss her. Or, wow Samus is awesome and can kick butt. I want her to kick my butt because I deserve getting my butt kicked by someone SO awesome…" he laughs and giggles away at his joke, much to Will's chagrin.

"You suck…" Will sticks out his tongue, crumples the rest of the plate and food in his hand, and gets up, tossing it away in the garbage. He doesn't bother to wave goodbye to his best friend as he knows that Shulk will be in the first aisle up by the Battlefield stage to watch and cheer him on like Donkey Kong will do for Diddy, and Pit for Palutena.

The blonde chuckles to himself and goes back to eating. It may not be his favorite thing to do in the world, but teasing on Will's words makes life worthwhile because the poor man sets himself up in the most tragic of tragic ways that could ever exist. He spoons a bite of cereal and wipes it up in the syrup on his pancake. As Shulk would tell others, his taste in food is both unique with a grotesque Frankenstein twist added in all because he could.

He turns to watch Will walk outside into the main foyer of the mansion, a sweepingly beautiful botanical garden where Meta Knight is often found out reading a book with Rosalina reading away to him the poetry she came up with the night before. Shulk pauses, biting on his lip, hesitant to call out to his best friend. Part of him wants to do, but the other half feels it will cause complications and there's nothing worse than getting the entire mansion alarmed.

The taste of lucid copper fills his mouth as the events of last night play over in his head. There's a loud crash outside his room that awakens Shulk at about two in the morning. The blonde stirs and goes to grab the Monado resting up against the dresser in case there would be burglars. Sometimes a lucky chap who thinks he can strike gold by stealing some Mushroom Kingdom coins gets by the security systems and traipses onto the mansion's grounds.

However, before Shulk is able to wrap a hand around the weapon, the door to his bedroom flies open with a cowling screech. He's tossed back to the wall, head turned away from the shrill blow of wind. He looks back at the door frame and the sight turns his blood ice cold. A figure stands in the doorway, almost resembling him, except there's no facial features to truly assemble from.

"What do you want?" Shulk shouts, bravely, though his heart is beating a thousand times a minute.

A clawed finger points at him, and their voice doesn't come out verbally, but a hiss inside his head that stops all other thought processes form taking place. "Bring us the fair maiden, Shulk, the Monado wielder! Bring her to us!"

"Who?" he cries out.

"You will know who…" the voice snarls.

"Who are you?"

It's two words, two simple words that hurt his entire existence and haunt him even in broad daylight. "The depths…" is the reply, and then as soon as the intruder came in, they vanished, and Shulk collapses to the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

He grunts out a sigh of pain, sitting up on his elbows and looking worriedly at the door which is still flung open. Shulk sits up on his knees, letting go of the Monado which sat in its spot, unmoving. An image is seared into his mind, a lava sea below a bed, and in the bed, is someone he's unable to tell from the angle till in the picture the person sits upright in a flash. _Samus._

Another thought from the cold voice goes through Shulk's head, and the image dissipates.

 _The dark whispers plague her in the fragile nightmare of sleep. Blackness and consuming screeches. The blonde warrior screams and leaps upright beneath the sheets. All her mind can do is think. "Beware of the depths beneath the lava sea."_

 _We're the depths, and we'd like to meet._

* * *

 **And there we are ladies and gents! That was Chapter #2: Volition, of Brinstar Depths. And ooh… the tight ring of threats has grown even more to now apparently my favorite Smasher I use as a villain and certainly an anti-hero. For those who knew of his role in Raven and the Lion plus Icarus Chronicle can tell. As for Maxcy, and those reading Syrenet, the cheery man I've written here is a total flip in that story (which I'm shamelessly plugging right now! TemUltimate, I think you'd love that story! Check it out!), it was a lot of fun. Clearly, so far, the horror is tongue and cheek where this isn't exactly scary, but it's propositional, as I want you all to paint your own picture. I like the Will x Samus dynamic I have going on, and then I still have to introduce Sonic into the story as well, so that'll be fun. Shulk's inclusion in this mess is going to be something I originally hadn't planned for, but I digress. There'll be an update next week as well for Brinstar Depths, and we'll be on the right page! Please review and let me know what you thought about this chapter! I hope to see you again for Chapter #3: Sedition. I love you all so much! You have an amazing day! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	3. Chapter 3: Sedition

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #3: Sedition. I think I'm going to do a trend where each chapter's name ends with 'ion' suffix ending, it has a ring to it, as everyone I believe noticed. Again, this story will somewhere be in the realm of around 15-20 chapters, and I think seventeen or eighteen is the best fit I can think of. I have a little bit of the middle pieces in the story to continue ploughing through, but the end is all decided and shall be quite the explosive ordeal, ladies and gents. Just like for Icarus Chronicle where the bible verses at the beginning of each chapter had part of what the chapter may have been about, the quotes in the beginning of each chapter are also there for the same reasoning. Thank you to Maxcy Leland, Metroid-Killer, and TemUltimate for reviewing, the reviews are very helpful in guiding a few shaky bits of characterization. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 _Sedition is bred in the lap of luxury and its chosen emissaries are the beggared spendthrift and the impoverished libertine. ~ George Bancroft_

Will opens his locker in the men's dressing room. Although the room itself isn't a 'dressing room' for the theater, since Master Hand's brilliant idea of having the Smashers sometimes brawl in costumes that the fans created came about, the room is deigned to be one covered in lace and perfume – smells and sounds that make the athlete want to promptly vomit his brains out, but there's no decorum in that – with silly tapestries swinging from the rafters and flower petals milling about on the floor.

He's getting ready for his match in about ten minutes, liking the peace and quiet that the empty room gives him. Silence is golden, the proverb speaks truth, and Will needs the most tranquil environment to be at peace before fighting for his life. Technically speaking, _he's_ not fighting for his life, but if he wants to stay in the greatest mansion summer vacation dream home of all time, then he needs to go out there and act as if he cares.

The incident at breakfast is still bothering him slightly, Samus's stinging glare resting in a brooklet somewhere in his body, sinew scars and cuts that mesh into a gleaming ruby red smile. Her blonde hair is a curse to view, as Will means to do his best and all he gets because of an accidental slip of the tongue is bitterness. He's too naïve for the mansion – everyone tells him this, usually over coffee, and Will scowls into the bowls of creamer – as Samus has said this a thousand times over, thinking it may eventually sink into his brain, but Will prefers to go on ignoring her and continue doing his daily business.

He leans against his locker, back skin bare and the cold metal is grating against the exposed flesh. Chills slide down his spine, waking his synapses, and the clinging memories of sheets and moonlight cause him to bite down on his tongue. Will closes his eyes, letting the absolved silence wash over him. He imagines an ocean, the color not necessarily mattering. Fish decorated in sapphire scales splash out, making harmonic notes when they land back in the water. Someone sits down next to him, Will turns, his heart stops – even though he's practically dreaming, he'd never get this in his wildest dreams no matter how hard he'd try – and Samus smiles. Her blonde curls sit against her left shoulder, diamond eyes twinkling mischievously as they laugh and soak up the rays together. Except, that's not her in his dreams, is it? What is stuck in Will's mind does not necessarily represent reality.

A loud knock comes from the other side of the dressing room, where the open door lies. Will snaps up, eyes widening. Over in the corner by the door stands a woman, Will suddenly feeling quite self-consciousness.

"You're not supposed to be here!" he snaps, blushing a bright beet red.

His sister, Wanda Forrest, over in her perch, smirks. She's clutching a water bottle in one hand, a banana in the other. Always being the go-getter of healthy eating and a healthy lifestyle, that while Will preaches it to the masses, he finds himself unable to resist a delicious slice of decadent chocolate cake.

"Who says?" she quips back playfully.

Will's face burns. She's his sister alright, playful and encroaching, but she's never seen him bare chested despite the fact that they're siblings. He reopens his locker and rummages around for a shirt. Although he's brawling in clothes - "Nudity is a display that will never be tolerated," Master Hand warns everyone, and then the next morning the four juvenile swordsmen that are Link, Ike, Marth, and Roy go streaking down the hallways - Will likes to wait before his match by being open to the elements.

"The sign on the door!" Will waves in her general direction. Indeed, out on the main door is a posted piece of paper put in a frame that states no females allowed in the male dressing room, and no males allowed in the female dressing room. Of course, any two Smashers that are dating will invade any private space they want, no questions asked, but Will Forrest is a stickler for the rules and currently his sister is not abiding by the rules.

"Oh please, we've seen each other naked countless times," Wanda waves off his anxiousness.

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember seeing you in the nude," Will insults her, sticking his tongue out. "It'd rest inside my brain like a disease. I'd want to _kill_ myself if I ever saw that! I-"

"Okay, enough," she interrupts him, rolling his eyes. "I get it. You're embarrassed because I'm way stronger and more fit than you, and showing off our bodies would display that full and well..." Her eyes glint with humor, daises blowing in the wind through her reflection. Will groans to himself, banging his head against the locker before slumping down to his bench seat.

Wanda crosses her arms, keeping her distance. Her short brown hair is tied back into a ponytail, the classic jumper outfits that she may or may not have borrowed from Samus's closet without her asking clinging to her lithe form. She's as agile as her twin brother, but she likes to call herself sharper and wiser than him on every account. Before Snake's departure, she manages to snag a few chess games with the Metal Gear soldier and beats him handedly. The man proposes that Will tries his hand at a game and Wanda is on the floor laughing so hard as her brother gets the four move checkmate play set on him and the athlete is sputtering indignations and burning a furious scarlet.

She takes a swig of her water bottle. Will cracks his knuckles, fitting on his shoes. "What do you want?"

His sister shrugs. "I'd like to know what you did by ticking Samus off."

Wanda expects some sly remark to come from her brother, but the groan that he elicits instead is amusing in its own right. Will's groan seeps down to his feet, feeling it through the Achilles heel and it slowly drips off of his toes, like a raindrop that seems condescending towards the ground below. He rubs his eyes with his hands, bending over so his head is aimed at the floor. "Not you too..." Will moans into his hands.

The sound of the banana being peeled back fills the pause after Will's release of frustration. "So... what did you do?"

"I really don't want to talk about it. Shulk already pestered me on it."

"Good!" Wanda throws the peel in the trash can, taking a chomp out of one of the ends. "Because I'm going to interrogate you even further!"

"Maybe I really should ask Master Hand to expel me from the rooftop. A flick of his pointer finger I think would suffice."

"You don't mean that."

"Maybe I do."

Wanda slugs an arm around her twin, hugging him to her side. He smiles at the touch of affection, placing a hand on her knee. The two sit, and it feels like high school over again. She fights his bullies and he fights hers, and the two are both sent to the principal's office, perhaps both interacting in the same manner as they are now with the world closing in on them. Both receive a hefty suspension, their parents chastise them, and then Wanda and Will go back to continue fighting against the boys and girls who want to make their life miserable, somehow winning and that's the end of their tale of battling the bullies.

Will recalls, and this must've been in his golden years as a teenager where everything scared him because he is only now starting to learn about the world, when he's fearing for her life over something quite mundane, and acts as if the Mayan apocalypse is currently zooming down from the stars. He punches her boyfriend straight in the nose after seeing them kiss - in his defense, he had just watched the 24/7 Date Crime television show where the boyfriend murders his fiancée by putting poison on his lips. "He's going to kill you, sis! I don't want to lose you!" - but, instead of Wanda getting upset like he expects, she dumps the guy as she is already planning on doing something to that affect and goes out and buys Will dinner.

It's a love that he's unable to recreate towards anyone, and even Samus is a struggle for him, and that's saying something.

He looks at her - Wanda - with a sigh. "I may have mentioned Subspace to Samus and it brought back some memories that ruined her evening and now she's upset at me."

Wanda eyes him with as much ferocity as she usually does on any given date - a look that says, _Will, put out your fire before you burn the entire mansion down with your stupidity, give me the candle -_ then stutters into a nervous laugh. "What? I- _Will-_ "

"I know. I know..." he groans again.

"Of all the Smashers in the mansion, except for maybe Lucas and Kirby, she has the worst case of PTSD from that experience!"

"Yeah, I'm an idiot."

"You think?"

"Gee, I'm glad to know you're in my backyard."

"Your witty sarcasm won't be able to save you now."

"Shulk's already told me all this."

"Well, I'm telling you again," Wanda smirks, patting her brother on the back. The clock over on the far right side of the wall reads five till noon, when Will's match is to begin. She'll stand on the frontlines, cheering for him and throwing a bouquet of flowers out even if her brother loses because that is what sisters do. Though part of her feels like he'll turn the other cheek and look elsewhere if she's in trouble, Wanda doesn't dwell on the thought any longer than she has to.

She pats him on the knee. He looks up at her and smiles gently. Will thinks his sister is beautiful when she smiles, showing the full palette of pearly white teeth, but he finds that Wanda doesn't often emote joy to then pull out a smile. He tries setting her up on dates, but those don't go well, just as she tries setting him up on dates, and yet those end just as badly. "What advice would you give me?"

Wanda bites on the inside of her cheek. "I think you need to do more than just say that you're sorry. Something... extra."

He blinks. "Like a ring?"

His sister gives an affronted face, slapping him on the shoulder. "No!" she caws. "Jeez, Will, I'm not asking you to marry her! Well, actually marry her all you want because I _know_ you're in love with her, but that isn't what I'm suggesting and-"

Will groans into his hands for the third time in the conversation, hoping and praying to all the beings of all the universes that the match start soon. "Okay, I get the picture. Like, a dinner? A steak dinner?"

There's a slight battle going on in Wanda's eyes. "Perhaps that'll work. It may seem like a whole lot of effort towards just one sentence, but maybe you'll have Samus so entranced she falls right into your lap."

"Or perhaps she breaks my nose," Will mutters. "That seems likely."

A bell begins to ring from the loudspeaker in the roof, meaning that the match is about to start. Both Forrest siblings eye other, messages being spoken by their looks of bold fire - _be brave,_ Wanda whispers without moving her mouth, _seize the opportunity before you and everyone else will fall_ \- and that someone from a mile away could see their familial relationship. Will stands up from the bench first, Wanda following.

"Any advice?" he asks.

"On Samus or the match?"

"The match."

"Palutena's... stick, I can't remember the name of it for the life of me, has quite a reach. I suggest fighting Diddy Kong first. Greninja is smart and knows who to take out, and you're likely not seen as a threat!"

"Hey..." Will looks offended, rubbing his shoulder.

Wanda hugs her brother, and claps him on the back. "I'll be watching from the sidelines as usual. If you lose first in this free-for-all, I'm abandoning the Forrest name," she threatens playfully.

He smiles, knowing that there's a heavy draped veil in front of his sister's words. Besides, he's too awesome and amazing to have someone drop out of his family. He's Will Forrest, the greatest athletic male trainer in the entirety of the world to ever exist. Only part of that is a lie, and only some of it is embellishment. She's about to walk around the corner and disappear from his view when a thought comes to his mind. "Sis!" he shouts out.

She pauses, left hand laced around the side of the doorway. "What?" she looks back in, blinking.

Will scratches his head. "Is my attraction to Samus really that noticeable?"

Wanda rolls her eyes, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. "Get to your match," she smirks, before pulling away.

He shrugs.

It was worth a shot.

* * *

Samus takes fighting very seriously. Ask any Smasher in the building and the response will all be the same. She comes to kick some butt and take some names which she very well does; the blonde intergalactic bounty hunter takes no prisoners. Currently she's in the gym training room, bashing punches away at a sandbag, the blank face staring back at her as it blinks, no emotion betraying the objects' true thoughts. Her headphones are in at full blast, heavy death metal ringing through her ears. It's perhaps one of the only secrets she keeps to herself in a family such as the one inside the mansion. In times of pure rage, Samus whisks herself away to a place no one can retrieve her from, where drumbeats mirror the pounding heart inside her chest, the anger surmounts to a rage that spills over and scalds the Earth, scorching away at all life forms that move. Her punches are deft and meant to hurt.

Sweat pools down her forehead from the extreme workout, having ditched Will at breakfast and taking to the gym for a bit of cardio and muscular endurance training. She imagines that the sandbag's face is Will's smug smirk, and each punch is a costly blow to his façade of stalwartness, where his exterior is exposed to be a rotten core of malicious lies. Samus blows the bag a good four or five feet back with a winded up punch, enjoying the fact she's the only one in the room. Everyone else is either watching the four player free for all in the stadium, eating an early lunch, or doing something else that Samus hasn't neither the time or energy to care about.

Her blood burns in her veins at the very thought of Will from the night before. An angel sits on her left shoulder, a devil on the right. The banter goes back and forth. _Forgive him. Hurt him. He didn't mean to upset you with the comment. Everything Will has said to you is a lie, let it bother you!_ The dark thoughts take over and act as the precedent, Samus's punches turning deliberate and well-practiced to the beat of the song. The lyrics - the words move like poetry, stanzas describing warfare and destruction, the destruction she wants to give the brunette's face right about now if the world will let her - fuels the fire to her volcanic state of mind. His words hang onto her skin like a child pulling on their mother's arm in a store, begging to be heard, but she's blocking out all the other distractions. Samus lets out a huge growl, reeling a punch back and slamming into the sandbag with the force of a Mach truck. The sandbag snaps off its hook keeping it in place up in the roof, flying up against the wall by a good fifteen or so feet.

The blonde's skin is boiling. She wrenches the headphones out of her ears, discarding them to the floor. Samus can still hear the vengeful sounds coming from them against the tile, seeming to somewhat amplify towards the rigging of the roof. She reaches for a water bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a thirsting sigh. The skin slowly cools down degree by degree as she lets the calmness of the room wash over her. Her track outfit is soaking with sweat, dark spots appearing all over her midriff and near her neck. Samus is unsure exactly what she's angry at. She very full well knows what her anger is pointed towards, _Will Forrest can stand up and receive his execution by a firing squad,_ but is the athletic trainer the true cause to all her problems.

Samus pauses, wanting to go pick up another punching bag. She hadn't thought of that yet, in the twelve hours of being upset at him. All the bounty hunter does is associate the talking of Subspace with the brunette and let the surmounting feels stop becoming oppressed, but expressed and it builds from there. The walls turn purple and shift closer to her. Her breathing begins to pick up again, seeing shapes mutate in the growing cloud of amaranthine darkness. Flashes of lighting crack in the void of nothingness, and Samus tenses. A peal of blue appears in the middle, a chestnut shaped heart that glows carnation pink pulsating in the dark. Sounds of whirring gears hit her ears, downing her to the floor. She covers her head in her hands, screaming for them to stop - the R.O.B's are too many, she and Pikachu are going to die in this strange facility with no one around to save them. She'll die by fighting enemies who can't even speak - her voice builds till it cracks, pain lacerating the inside of her throat.

The walls change color again, and she looks up from her huddled position.

"I'm just imaging things again..." she exhales. Samus wipes off her forehead, which is slick with perspiration.

She grabs another sandbag off the wall, hooking it in place, surprised to see from her last blow that it didn't mess up any of the rigging. The blonde returns to her wailing pattern, two left jabs followed by a right sucker punch before upper cutting, occasionally hitting out with her feet. Inside her suit, everything else feels different, feels far more clunky. She prefers to brawl only in her Zero Suit, but Master Hand tells her that the fans have now associated herself with the sunburst colored machine that acts more as Samus than Samus does herself. Getting punched in the face by a fist made of iron is not a fun experience. Samus wonders how many bloody noses she's given the male Smashers of the mansion over the time she's been there. Too many, perhaps, and the thought causes her to shudder.

Samus is so involved in her practice, she is unable to hear the soft padding of someone barefoot stepping into the gym. A hand goes down on her shoulder, and she whips around, throwing a punch. Usually the youthful swordsmen like playing pranks on her in the time when she's in the zone, and now Samus is prepared for it. Her punch goes out, and the hand catches it.

"Whoa! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle ya!" the voice cries out in shock.

Her diamond eyes soften, and Samus sucks in a breath. The Monado wielder, Shulk, is standing in front of her, one hand encircled around the fist that had been aimed for his lower jaw. His eyes don't reflect an emotion of fear, but one of confidence and bravery, meaning that she isn't fazing him at all by nearly knocking him to the floor.

She wrenches free her grip. "I'm sorry. I- I was too engrossed in the training and I-"

"It's okay," Shulk assures her.

Samus is unsure of how to placate an opinion on him. Just like the Forrest twins, Shulk is someone who is very soft spoken and playful, completely nice in every sense of the word, yet there's a bitter distaste coursing through between wine red gums as Samus is upset that the Monado swordsman is new and somehow wants to try and fit in with the old crowd. Samus can't recall if she felt this way to any other year of newcomers, whether they had been the Melee fighters or the Brawl Smashers, but in the fourth generation, her heart is not capable of truly accepting anyone.

"You come down here to train?" Samus asks, taking another swig of a water bottle.

"No."

"Just watching me workout?" she raises an eyebrow, slightly uncomfortable at that prospect. "There's a match going on. Maybe you should go watch it. It's probably far more entertaining."

Shulk shakes his head, sheepishly putting his hands in his pockets. "I was actually looking for you."

"Oh. Did you happen to know I was here or-"

"Everyone in this mansion knows you come to the gym to workout when you're angry."

Samus gets eerily quiet for a few moments. "Who said anything about me angry?"

"From the reaction you had at breakfast when Will tried talking to you, I'd say you're upset with him."

Her skin crawls, and Samus turns around to resume punching at the bag. His body disappears behind her, yet he continues to talk all the same. "That isn't any of your business, kiddo. Sorry, but that's between Will and I, and I'd rather not address it at the moment."

Shulk rocks on the back of his heels, face blushing a bright fuchsia. "There's no need. He already told me..."

Samus pauses, glaring at the fellow blonde. He shrugs, an ever so innocent look on his face that she wants to punch the ever living daylights out of. It'd be rather comical, but she knows Dr. Mario is upset at the amount of out of brawling related injuries he has to cope with, so much in fact that the doctor turns to the roof and swears in Italian. Samus has no idea what he's saying, but can place maybe he's letting out a few favorite four letter words that start with an f and end with a k, but all Samus is doing at this point is speculating.

"If you already know about it, then why are you here?" she asks. Samus knows exactly what he's going to say, but there's no way in hell she's giving the squirrely runt the chance to try and convince her on something as asinine as forgiving Will for the comment he made. It's in all the Smasher's brains that if the topic of the Subspace Emissary can be avoided, it is everyone's best interest to forget about it and let that conversation fall to the wayside.

"I'm here to tell you I think you should go talk to him about it."

"Not going to happen."

"You don't have to apologize," Shulk reiterates. "You just need to let Will know what's bothering you. Heck, it may be something totally different entirely than his comment that has upset you, and letting it off your chest may help with that!"

"Shulk, I'd much rather prefer you leave if you're going to be this way," Samus grits her teeth, slamming a double punch into the sandbag, feeling the strength surge through her enclosed fist so hard her entire right arm quivers. "Will said something stupid, and I'll be angry at him till he gets the picture to never mention it to me again."

"I'm quite sure he got the picture."

Samus freezes, looking at the roof, annoyance flashing in her eyes. She turns back to Shulk, biting her lip from swearing at him. She's learned a lot in space by herself, knowing things that she never would have believed to be true about the human beings she's protected or the monsters she defeated, and in this precious moment, the bounty hunter has no surplus of knowledge on how to deal with the mountain that is overcoming talking to Will about the Emissary.

"Thanks for letting me know what I should do, but I've already thought it out."

"And?" Shulk raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to talk to him."

Shulk sighs with frustration. "Okay," he says, but the tone of his voice makes it evident he wishes the talk could continue, but Samus has made herself as stubborn as the Israelian city of Zion, the rock foundation shall never be moved from its perch till the fires above and below wrench it from its holding ground. She hears the Monado wielder begin to walk away, but he pauses still on the threshold of the gym mat to solid tile. "Will is in the brawl that's going on. You don't have to speak to him afterwards, whether he wins or loses, but I think you should go and watch. At the very least it'll show you care to some degree. Think about it. I'll leave you to exerting your rage on poor Mr. Sandbag."

He walks off, and leaves Samus in the world of her pent up anger and rage. She shakes her head at the thought, nearly scoffing. "It's going to take a lot more than one weak blonde friend to tell me how to deal with this before I change my mind," Samus grits her teeth. Her punching resumes. A left strike, right jab. Left undercut, right roof out to smack the lower parts of the sandbag.

She's caught up in her training that she's unable to notice or feel the pair of eyes watching her from the rigging, and the purple black body that the eyes belong to.

* * *

 **There we are ladies and gentlemen! That was Chapter #3: Sedition, of Brinstar Depths. And wow, that was actually a little bit longer than I expected. I usually am going for a medium sized chapter somewhere in the 3000 word range, and with Pokemon fan-made music in my ears, I suppose I decided to dice out an extra 1500 words for ya'll. Thanks for being patient with me on these uploads, as one of my stories is having horribly sluggish updates and I feel that I'm just upsetting everyone else with not posting updates for it.**

 **So, we have been introduced to Wanda Forrest, Will's better half. I need to go back and change Willa to Wanda from Chapter 1 (hey, thanks Circuit's Dead for using that name) as typing Willa and Will constantly just is annoying for me to read and type, let alone disconcerting I feel to the reader's eye. I know that there isn't a law saying there needn't be an abundance of epithets for names, but I guess I overuse them too much lol. I wanted to try my best at showing that Will and Wanda have this sibling relationship, and I think I did manage to do that. She teases him, he deflects her. Next chapter is going to have Will's brawl in there, and I know I am not a phenomenal writer in describing action from keypad to screen, so don't be expecting much, hahaha. I'm having a struggle in putting in parts of the game to practical sense, because I don't quite know how I'm going to be able to detail throwing an endless soccer ball arsenal or zen energy with permanent hula-hoop flying as the Wii Fit Trainer gets in the handheld and consoles, but it'd be a copout in having a swordsmen battle as that's overdone and I am not a man to write stories using overdone tropes if I can avoid them.**

 **Samus's section was fun to write, because it seems the tone of my story is always a depressing like feel to it, hahaha. I can understand where people may say she's being out of character, but I'm trying to put it into perspective here that everyone knows what not to talk about, and she has a close relationship to Will as it can be seen that they're amicable to one another, and a close friend betrays her trust on an issue of PTSD to her... yeah, Samus can be upset. I feel like it'll be a dragging theme of her anger and refusal to listen to you guys as the readers, because in normal lengths of time, the timeframe for maybe a movie or TV show might not matter, but because it's chapters, there may be a discrepancy. I also hope that I got her anger and frustration written correctly in her bit, because I don't want it to come off as cheap. I am trying to not make this a Will-centric piece as it can be seen as such with him having more main scenes than her at this point, but I digress.**

 **Shulk's role will be expanded upon, like Wanda's, so he's not just some messenger relaying information back in forth between two parties. The depths have plans for the Monado wielder, that is clear enough. Like Wanda and Shulk, I will have Sonic's role in this all explained out soon, and I'm sure none of you have any idea what his job will be in this piece. There are two or three other Smasher characters I will have act as mains alongside the main four, but they'll be revealed and used in time. Just talking about the piece gets me excited. And it also is unsettling to know, Samus has herself a personal fan that watches her train, but from that description, is it the 'depths' that are after her? Sound down below!**

 **With this post, I am finally back on schedule, as I am doing chapters every other week, and I messed up last time with the second chapter lol. I shall have this story finished somewhere around late January of next year if I type everything according to plan. Chapter #4: Jurisdiction, is next, and I'm excited to build more upon these characters and this scenario we are in. I am sticking with that 'ion' suffix theme, but I need to use words that I know, hahaha, as there are words here I have no idea as to what they are. Thank you all so much for reading! Please review, as I'd love to know your thoughts. Have an amazing day! Love you all! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	4. Chapter 4: Jurisdiction

***cue the vegetables being thrown at me***

 **Hey ya'll! Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, #4: Jurisdiction. This one has definitely been quite the doozy to type up as action is not my strong suit, and getting all technical with the brawling has never been fun nor easy. But in a Smash story literally set in the 'mansion', I can't not have brawls happen. I explain things a little differently than what people probably would expect factoring in damage percentages and KO's, and stuff. I've been recently thinking about the plot for this piece and there's been a few roadblocks I'm hitting in how long certain ideas and arcs should play out for, but nothing major. I, once and ceremoniously again is off track with updates, but I shrug and grin and get back onto my A-game.**

 **Last chapter is a build up of two new characters to the scheme of things, Wanda Forrest and Shulk (his last name I gave him, if I did, is fleeting me and that ticks me off...), building up the main duo of Samus and Will. A brawl is on the horizon, and we'll start to get into the true meat and potatoes of the piece. Thank you to TemUltimate, Maxcy Leland, itanimulli, and Metroid-Killer for reviewing, they mean a lot to me, as usual!**

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 _"Big skirmishes over small misunderstanding make things bad in a relationship." ~ Girdhar Joshi_

Will shades his eyes as he walks into the brightly lit dome. Multitudes of cheering and adoring fans fill the stands, a wave of colors that he is unable to discern from as they cheer on his name in specific sections. There are four exit tunnels to correspond with each point of the square, and above each particular tunnel is a portrait of whichever Smasher is to come through those doors. Greninja's steely eyes stare through Will's soul from afar, the creepy and salivating pink tongue still acting as a scarf. Diddy Kong's jubilant bright eyes warm the athlete's heart momentarily, but there is a sharpness to them as well; a feeling of victory courses through the primate's eyes. Palutena is as ethereal digitally as she is in the flesh, her iridescent hair blown across her face, hiding the true ferocity of the goddess.

The stage is nothing major, a good forty by forty sized space of 1600 square feet to brawl on. It is a rolled out mat sky blue in color, red trim lacing the outer edges. Safety nets are lined up around the pitfalls of the stage, and Will shudders at the thought of hitting them. It hurts when getting slammed into coarse rope at forty miles an hour. Four teleport mechanisms stand by the corners, and next to each is the gear for the Smasher occupying said space. Will rolls his eyes and wonders why Master Hand ever thought that hula hoops and soccer balls would ever make for wonderful weapons. Next to Greninja's water acrobatics and glaives, to Diddy Kong's peanut gun and jetpack... even Palutena's caduceus could give someone a concussion if they were walloped on the head with in the right spot.

Will's mind is still unable to fully comprehend how the specifics of the arena work. None of the weapons inside a brawling match can physically hurt another Smasher. Instead, they are ranked up by a percentage that can shown by the scoreboard. All Smashers participating in a Brawl wear a special arm bracelet that detects the damage thus far racked up. It physically causes the Smasher to be easily knocked back the higher the number goes. Will likes when he's sent skyrocketing by an uppercut, as it is the only time he as a human is able to fly. Outside of the arena, most of the weapons are kept locked up because they can cause severe damage to someone without the protective markings and encasings. Some powers, such as Mario and Luigi's, or Ness and Lucas's, can't be kept under a lock and key. It's partly the reason why people do not trust Ganondorf. With one thought of malice intent, he could level the mansion low if he wanted to.

The crowd's cheering gets louder and louder as the other participants enter the ring. Diddy Kong gets the largest amount of applause, already having a reputation to uphold from being in the Brawl era. Nine years to get acquainted with an audience does a lot for one's personal ego. Will slaps on the damage bracelet, it firmly gripping his skin like a vice. Should the match be played on a Time sequence, or be a fight where there are stocks more than one, the bracelet resets the counter. Once a Smasher goes flying into the safety nets, unless the match is over via no stock for that particular fighter, the net drops open and the fighter is teleported back to their starting spot outside of the stage. The fighter has to step back into their portal and resume fighting. Should it be the last stock the Smasher has, once they're out of the game, they have to lay there. Will has, time and time again unfortunately, sat in the net for ten minutes or more to simply grumble at his mistakes; stupid mistakes and mess-ups that caused him the game and the laurel. He's not one who gets last place often, he'll have everyone know that.

Separated from the crowd stands, which are chairs adorned with all sorts of fancy features and gizmos, is the Smasher viewing section. It goes all the way around the stage as well, except, instead of more comfortable seating, it is hardened gray bleachers. Those playing in tourneys sit there and wait for their doom. Time drags on in the waiting room, usually. Will looks over to see his sister sitting there. She isn't alone, two figures alongside her that he's unable to distinguish any features from. He leans against the rail, almost tipping over. He can make out a ponytail of blueberry hair, a sword sheath patting the person's waist. Will blinks. Why is Lucina standing next to his sister? Squinting further, Will finds out that the other person next to Wanda is Lucario, the Aura Pokemon, a wise councilor and even better brawler.

Will does not have time to mull decisions when the countdown above initiates. The crowd silences down with a hush, the teleportation device revving to life. He grabs a few black cylinders that were laying next to the bracelet and hooks them into the lining of his sweatpants. His brow is glistening with sweat as the sun beats down on the arena from above, light streaming in through the glass ceiling that looks as if it could shatter any minute. He steps into the portal, closing his eyes. The countdown booms in his head.

 _5_

 _4_

 _3_

 _2_

 _1_

Just like how Will is unable to explain what the arena functions on, he is never able to formulate into well-comprehensible sentences how teleporting works. It is as if he is there one minute, and then not there the next. He relegates it to sleeping, at the times where one closes their eyes and is unable to remember the dreams they were going through. Will feels a cold chill settle on his arms as his feet can no longer touch solid concrete. It is as if they are levitating on the open air, before they're placed down on the blue mat of the stage.

The white in his vision clears, and he blinks the spots away. Will sees his three opponents starting to accompany themselves with the surrounding, to get the feeling back into their bones once more. The crowd hangs in precious tension, bated breaths filling the silence. Will feels his sister's eyes boring into the back of his head, corneas sizzling as she mentally drives her thoughts into him, and he's ready to win another match.

 _0_

Chaos erupts in the dome. Screams of excitement fill Will's ears as he begins to run towards the center. He's found it that being somewhere in the outskirts on the stage causes his matches to end earlier than he hopes, and so by sticking in the thick of things, he can bruised and battered, but perhaps survive. Palutena thrusts her staff out, a sunburst orange wall of glass blocking any projectiles that'd go her way. It happens in the nick of time, as Diddy Kong pulls out his barrel gun to fire a few rounds at the iridescent haired woman. Each peanut chinks off the shield like a pebble to a wall; his attack is futile.

Greninja examines the fighting between Diddy and Palutena, the strategist part of his mind cutting the corners and leaping for Will. The athlete blocks his webbed hand with his arm, pushing the frog back. He skids on the mat with ease, eyes glaring lowly. Will clutches one of the canisters around his waist, the one resting against his right hip, and pulls out a small pink ring. He clenches the ring shut in his fist, until it starts to enlarge. Will's feet do not stay in the same spot for more than a few seconds, dodging crystal shurikens that could in any other circumstance, cleave his head from his neck. The ring has grown to full size, now a hula hoop in his hand. He gets closer to Greninja, the frog backing up warily. Will swings outwards with it, clapping the ninja in the elbow. He knows that the damage he's racking up is minimal - usually each hit only deals about four percent or so, and the rule of thumb to send opponents flying is around a hundred - but every hit counts. The smack against Greninja's elbow is not meant to be painful, so the frog leaps at Will over the hula hoop.

The athlete reacts fast, swiping the hula hoop up so the frog is caught in the circle. It slowly starts to tighten around Greninja, the ninja squirming around as the hoop starts to grind against the slimy body trapped inside. Will gives a quick look at the scoreboard to see that the makeshift prison for his stealthy foe is slowly racking up two points of damage as it continues to squeeze. He races off, luckily having Greninja preoccupied. While he was distracted with Greninja - Will swears that he needs to start understanding the lesson on not only focusing on one goal at a time - Diddy and Palutena have been going at it like cats and dogs.

Diddy swipes out an arm, Palutena blocking with her staff. She spreads her wings out, blinding the monkey, as that is all the advantage she needs before Palutena smacks him in the head with it. Diddy goes flying to the right, colliding into Greninja who had just worked himself free. Will sneaks up from behind on the goddess, dropping another hula hoop ring onto her body. For a moment his eyes light up, until it hits him that her wings are too large and the hula hoop only has a certain maximum diameter they can reach across. Palutena smirks at Will, sending her staff backwards which collides right between Will's groin.

The air goes _whoosh_ out of Will's lungs, and he drops to his knees on the stage. The audience oohs in disapproval of Palutena's actions. Playing dirty by hitting a man in the nether regions is never usually a good thing. Rosalina, in her heels - true story - once kicked Ganondorf in that area as a last resort. It downed the warlock with a groan that Link nor Zelda ever let him live down, and then the astronomer flung Ganondorf off the stage with her wand, chuckling all the ever while. Palutena joins the fray of Greninja and Diddy Kong, laughing airily while Will writhes in agony. Apparently the only part of his body still capable to being injured is the one where it counts.

Diddy Kong's eyes widen as Palutena starts swinging her staff like a sword, clocking Greninja in the tongue. The frog croaks out a bubble of frustration and pain as he skids back. The primate does not want to be hit by her power again, he'd rather not face the brutality of her staff once more. His jetpack is strapped around his shoulders, and he flicks it on. The ground around him heats up as the boosters are filled with fuel, smoke caching around him as he tries to launch out sideways. His face brightens with elation, until Palutena whirls around. She shakes her head lowly, the tip of her caduceus glowing the hot brilliance of a star. Two balls of light - perhaps the core of a star from long ago - are ripped from the glow and pummel into the boosters on Diddy's jetpack. His smile fades as the sudden gaining of air he had been recently in dwindles to a soft _puh,_ and he falls back to the stage. Diddy has very little time to recover before Palutena's staff hits him right underneath the jaw, and that is it for the primate. His damage meter around his wrist screams, and he goes flying back. His pitiful howl goes all the way from his last spot on the stage into the net. A loud _THUD_ for emphasis lets the audience know for those who can't see that a brawler has been exited from the stage.

Over the loudspeaker, an deep and automated voice announces, " _Diddy Kong, Brawler 4, defeated."_

Will stumbles back to his feet, the pain in his groin receding. He frowns, wondering why the announcer calls Diddy Kong defeated, and then he remembers that the match is set to only one stock. There are five separate brawls to be played out in the day, Will's fight being the first, so there is an afternoon of triumph and loss. The athlete throws himself into the duel between Greninja and Palutena. The frog is leaping from glass wall to the next, not letting the obstructions stop his perceived victory. Palutena is shooting out a combo of light and barricades, hoping to inflict some damage when she is able.

The athlete steals another glance at the board, seeing that underneath Palutena's portrait, in a dark hued pink, is the number _98._ A wicked grin settles itself on his face. Palutena's time is almost up if she does not watch her back. He clutches at the canister against his left hip, pulling out a small rubber bouncy ball. He presses into the center, and it starts to expand until it is the size of a normal soccer ball. Will fills another one with air, reaches for a third, and goes until he's clutching five in his hands. Placing them on the ground, as Greninja is starting to bombard the goddess with shurikens of his own, Will starts lobbing the soccer balls at Palutena as if they're lemmings. Two collide into the side of her face, breaking the goddess out of her current brawl plan. A shuriken hits her chest, propelling her back a few feet, and then Will throws the last two of his soccer balls. He kicks the last, still settled by his foot, and all three slam into Palutena. Her damage counter spikes to _127_ and her damage meter groans. Palutena's face mirrors that of exasperation before her body is flung off the stage.

 _"Palutena, Brawler 1, defeated."_

Will locks his eyes with Greninja, the frog tilting his head up as if he's daring the athlete to make a move. The brunette's hands linger around the canisters, but he raises them back up. Gimmicks could very well win him a brawl, but it'd be easier to duel mano-e-mano with fists and feet. The audience wants a true show, don't they? He cracks his knuckles, and his neck, then leaps. Greninja rolls his eyes, preparing a water shuriken. Will lands on the ninja's face, before he's blasted in the face with a sudden shower. Greninja's webbed foot hits him in the chest, the frog leaping onto his back. Will tries clawing him off of his back, turning out to be unable to do so as the frog's skin is slippery and hard to grasp.

It is quite comical as Greninja smacks Will in the face with his hands, before Will heaves him off by grabbing his tongue, using it like a lasso to flip the ninja onto his back. The ninja rolls out of the way as the athlete's fist collides with the stage. Will glares, throwing himself at his foe with a flurry of punches and kicks that surely must be winning him the match. Greninja blocks each expertly and swiftly, grabbing the brunette's wrists before more damage can be exerted. He throws Will back, the athlete's hair glistening with sweat, a halcyon sheen coating his arms, and a crazed madness glowing in his emerald eyes.

The athlete starts to take another go around the block, when he feels something wrap around his ankle. Will looks down to see Greninja's bubble gum tongue tightening around the bone. He looks up, panic lacing his eyes, unable to wrench his foot free, and the two brawlers lock their gaze. Greninja gives a sultry nod before slamming Will into the stage, rearing him up, and then sending him flying. Will lets out an anguished yell before slamming into the net.

 _"Will, Brawler 3, defeated."_

The audience explodes in cheers, deafening roars of applause drowning out all other sounds. Greninja's name is chanted on the wind. "Greninja! Greninja! Greninja!" The frog takes a bow, and stands studiously underneath the veil of glory and his victory. Will rolls his eyes, partially jealous. " _That should be my name on their lips,"_ he grumbles to himself, and then his body is teleporting back to the original location.

He is given only a few seconds to recuperate before the pain starts again. "How could you forget his tongue? Will, you are sometimes the stupidest twin brother in the whole world!" A bombardment of magazine pages hits Will's exposed arms, the athlete laughing out loud as he tries covering himself from Wanda's rage.

"I know, I know," he crows to her, a slight hint of defeatist attitude in him. "When you're in the heat of the moment... you just kind of forget stuff like that."

Wanda drops the magazine, her eyes lightning as she really wants to smack her brother upside the head like Palutena, but she gives it up. "You could've won had he not used it like the cheater he is."

"Greninja isn't a cheater. He's a literal frog ninja! That's quite badass if you ask me," Will smirks.

"No one's asking you anything," Wanda snips.

The audience is still cheering despite Greninja being off the stage. Will looks around to see Donkey Kong talking to his best friend under the shadowed tunnel where the smaller primate had come from originally. Palutena is being flocked by Pit, the white winged angel bombarding her with statements on how awesome she is, or how wonderful her perfectly timed strokes were, and it looks like the goddess wants to take an eternal nap just to stop being under the duress of her biggest fan's crowing.

"Palutena's staff hurts," Will groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't let her hit you down there."

Wanda winks playfully at him. "I don't have anything _precious_ to protect down there, Will. But I'll keep it in mind if I have to brawl her in the future."

"What was Lucina and Lucario sitting with you for?"

His sister raises an eyebrow. "They were wanting to watch the match, and they sat by me. Mario wandered in after Diddy had been clucked from the stage, and then left as soon as Greninja won, but besides him, it was just us four."

Will frowns. He had only seen three other Smashers. His sister, Lucina, and Lucario. Who else would she be talking about if Mario is not to be included in the four?

"I don't- there was only, what-" he starts, but the words stop in his throat as Wanda nods mischievously, bowing her head and moving out of the way for another person listening to their conversation to walk up.

Stunning sunshine hair tied back in a ponytail. Diamond blue eyes. A sleek and quite appealing jumpsuit.

The water in Will's mouth dries up.

He hadn't been expecting this.

 _Samus._

 _Samus Aran._

 _Samus Aran watched his brawl._

* * *

 ***grins manically* That was fun! I had a whole lot of fun writing this chapter, I'll be honest. How did the pragmatism and practical explanations of the brawling work? Are they too hard to understand? Trying to explain damage percentages, and stocks, and other things with the main series gameplay can be difficult to translate correctly, so this is what I came up with. I was meaning to add an extra scene at the end of the chapter, but then I realized how it would totally ruin the mood of the chapter, and that's not my intention, so I am leaving it here and will tack that scene onto the beginning of the next chapter. How did the fight go? I didn't want Will to win, but I didn't want him to lose, so here's this building where perhaps he isn't the most humble person in the world? It could be a stretch since he and the technically female counterpart are characters that don't have a necessarily discernible personality, him being cocky and arrogant and jealous about fighting could be the deterrence from possible Gary Stu like qualities should they arise? Based on hints from this chapter, can you guys now more easily guess the supporting group of four characters in this piece? Remember, Samus, Will, Shulk, and Sonic from the summary tag are the four main characters... so who's the side cast? They shouldn't be that hard to spot. I want to say thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought, as I am constantly improving and there's no limit to where my work can go with the right guidance and advice. I'll be putting out Chapter #5: Edification, sometime next week. I am planning for a Syrenet update on Friday, so look out for that as well! Once more, as I do not never know when to stop thanking, am grateful for your views and reviews! Have an amazing day! I love you all so much! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	5. Chapter 5: Edification

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #5: Edification. It has been a nice and lovely two week vacation from this story I shall say so myself, as new ideas constantly spring up on my mind. I took some inspiration from several things for this chapter such as Lord of the Rings, mainly with the beginning scene, and a few tidbits from reading works in AP Literature, as I feel a little bit of more flowing style to my writing, like water on a rock, but I digress. Last chapter, Will Forrest proves that he can fight, but perhaps he sees too little of the end goals that he should promptly focus on *cough winning a match cough* than one enemy at a time. I had a lot of fun writing that chapter and trying to explain the inner workings of a difficult system that is battling on the Smash games, but I think I pulled it off. We also were introduced, if you guys caught the hint well enough, about the possible side characters of this story which I threw in on the wisps of a mention. Thank you to Metroid-Killer and TemUltimate for reviewing, the reviews and views mean a lot, so thank you. Enjoy Chapter #5: Edification.**

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 _"For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack." ~ D.H Lawrence_

The terrace is peaceful, save again for the softness of the crashing waves to the shore that bask in the sunlight. A mat is placed up against the terrace edge, the corners spilling up onto the sides of the concrete. Roses and other various flowers lapel down the hallway entrance, although this is a different outcropping of rock than the one Samus visits generally every night.

Standing on the mat is Shulk, the blonde Monado wielder upright as a bamboo pole that does not sway in the wind. Sunshine washes over his golden hair, the boy wearing a light silk shirt and lighter pants to dance around in. He holds the blade in his right hand, the left pressed up against it, exhaling through his nose, sighing exultantly. Eyelids flutter open, diamond eyes flash, and he swings. The stroke is graceful, like a water dancer gliding through crests and diving underneath the aquamarine surface.

He swishes the Monado up and then down in a circle, almost like a fan's blade spinning sideways. Shulk enjoys the whistling sound of the sword as it slices through the air, the cacophonous slide music to his ears. Shulk lets the rays soak into his skin, tanning his pale arms before he whirls around as if to parry an oncoming attack.

 _CLANG!_

Shulk is caught off guard as the Monado collides with another steel blade, slamming into an actual weapon that he had only been imagining. A croak of surprise bubbles in the blonde's throat, frozen in place as metal strikes metal, a reverbed gong ringing out into the sky. He swipes down quickly, bypassing the blade having first blocked his stroke, to now place the tip of the Monado gently up against his foe's exposed neck.

Lucina lifts her head ever so slightly up so the blade is now ticking against the bob of her throat. "You have some skill with a blade," she comments. Falchion, her weapon, is lay discarded against the terrace from Shulk's slapping of the sword.

He continues to look at her with ferocity in his eyes. Shulk has heard and seen a lot from the other Smashers, Marth included, about the rawness of her fighting ability, and he's still confused on what the Hero King and the female swordsman have in common in terms of relation. However, her words catch on his ears, and he lowers the Monado from her neck.

"You've never seen me fight before?" he asks timidly, unsure whether or not she'd continue to spar with him.

Lucina grabs her sword, sheathing it back at her hip. She bobs her head some. "I haven't, actually. I'm always either training with Marth or another swordsman, and I've never witnessed your abilities. In matches, doesn't your sword give you special characteristics depending on the weapon's color?"

"This isn't just any sword or weapon, milady," Shulk grimaces at the formality, unsure whether to call her Lucina or something of royalty. Although he's heard a lot of the history of Earth and the titles that humans bestow upon themselves, nothing has quite stuck, because he is not from the land she hails from; he has no need to bow and give her necessary courtesies. "This is the Monado! It most likely exceeds even your weapon..." he does not know the name of her blade.

"Falchion," Lucina answers.

"The Monado is more advanced than Falchion," the blonde smirks. He settles the Monado up against one of the sides of the terrace, going to a water bottle placed by the hallway to take a sip. "Isn't that the name of Marth's sword? Why do you both have it share the same name?"

"It's complicated."

"Sounds as much."

He looks at her underneath the sunlight, as the clouds are interspersed above in the sky blue sea of stars and galaxies. A few flicks of brightness catch her eyes, and he's thrown off guard by the beauty that glints out with radiant luminosity. Lucina's hair is tied back in a ponytail, a few strands of bangs brushing up against her forehead, but if it bothers her, Lucina's facial expressions do not show it.

"Why were you out here training and not watching the match?" she asks, placing a hand on her hip.

"I didn't find the need to. Why were you?"

"I'm always scouting out what my enemies can bring to the table. I hate surprises," Lucina sniffs.

Shulk eyes her warily, almost wanting to go and grab the Monado. Something about her tone of voice, and the exact words she uses sounds disconcerting to his ears. Everyone in Smash Mansion - even Ganondorf and Bowser, which is like pulling teeth to admit - are friends to some degree. "Enemy?" he repeats the word. It sounds too barbaric to him. Shulk's arms, despite being lightly covered and in broad daylight, get clammy and chilly. "This is all friendly competition. Isn't that quite harsh?"

Lucina shrugs. "It may be friendly, but at the end of the day it is a competition and I do not want to lose." She brushes the bangs out of her face, a hand still on the hilt of Falchion like a cat, constantly posed to strike and constantly ready to deal with potential threats. "No one likes to lose here. Will got outsmarted by Greninja for having a body organ longer than normal lead him to victory. Now, after watching what took place, I need to be wary of Greninja's tongue."

"I can beat anyone I face," Shulk says confidently.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Is that so? How many matches have you had since you've been here?"

"Forty."

"And how many of them placed you in the top two of that fight?"

There's a hesitancy written on the blonde's face. "Eight."

"Only twenty percent!" Lucina throws her head back and laughs. "That sounds mightily cocky of you to think that you don't need to watch the other Smashers and learn their tricks."

Shulk scowls. "Well, _milady,"_ There's a rugged emphasis on the word, and the bluenette sticks her tongue out at him. "I think you'll have to let me train in peace. I hope we do not cross on the Smash stage or otherwise we'll be in quite the jam."

Lucina nods lowly. "I'll let you return to your mat dancing," she smirks, going to cross the threshold of stone to carpet. Something stops the fighter, and she looks back. "A word of advice, Shulk. Always have your ears open when practicing. You should've been able to hear me come up to you. I'm not as lithe as everyone expects me to be. Good day."

Like the wind, she is gone. Shulk rolls his eyes, picking up the Monado. It rumbles to life in his hands, almost like a machine that purrs a soft and sweet melody. He begins to dance again, her words hitting the back of his skull like a plague. _Listen out for enemies. But- but enemies are so harsh. That's such a rough word and there's nothing but happiness here. Make sure to stay hydrated as you exercise. I don't need your advice, consciousness! I am great! Those are just the mutterings of a woman who thinks she knows me and I-_

Shulk's thoughts stop as his foot stumbles against a bunched up piece of the carpet. The blonde hits the terrace cheek first, pain shooting up the left side of his face. He groans, the Monado flying from his grasp, the sword clattering against one of the pillars. He gets on his knees, dusting his elbows off. Shulk grimaces and gingerly touches his cheeks. Slight agony flares up at the ghostly touch.

He curses to himself, and grabs the Monado against its perch. He straightens out the mat again to continue swinging away when something catches his eye. Shulk freezes, the Monado high above his head as if he's a butcher about to bring it down on a slab of meat. The blonde cranes his head, and furrows his eyebrows together at the sight.

A tall, formidable person is walking down the hallway. Shulk thinks that the outfit the stranger is wearing is a suit of armor, with dome shaped shoulder pads, and a greyscale green underneath the shoes. His eyebrows rise up happily, brightness filling his eyes. _Samus's armor._ He does not recall her getting a new coat of paint in the wardrobe for such a sleek and bombastic purple, clashing elegantly with darker hues of navy blue.

Shulk races after Samus. "Samus!" he calls out to her. "Let me go with you if you're going to train!"

He throws his hand out to touch her shoulder, and something causes Shulk to cry out. Carried in Samus's arms is the old suit, her original, the staple. The pieces of sunburst orange metal are burnt and scorched all over, dark marks dug into them. A few zaps of broken electrical wiring sputter and exhale in the jagged bits piled together in her arms.

However, he manages to get a good look at Samus's face, and his cry splits again, going a decibel higher. It is not the warm face of Samus Aran that greets him, no diamond eyes that he is used to, or even a lock of revealing sunbeam hair spilling around the visor. The visor gleams and shifts, almost like a transparent mirror. What hides behind the mask is a face that is bruised and blackened, two empty amber pits staring straight into Shulk's soul.

Scars mat the stranger's face, an empty hole situated where a mouth would normally go. The suit of armor - Shulk is beyond unsure whether or not to call whatever this being is a _person_ at such a close examination - grips the blonde boy's wrist, fire lacerating through his bones. He drops the Monado, trying to wrench himself free, but the grip only tightens, and the burning sensation only gets worse.

The hole bristles, as if it is trying to speak, but no audible words come out. A screech fills the hallway, and the hiss breaks through Shulk's mind, almost causing him to faint.

 _"The depths need her! Summon Samus Aran to the depths of Brinstar! Brinstar Depths has been reawaken!"_

The grip on Shulk's wrist is released, the suit of amaranthine and shadow armor fading away into tiny bubbles, but not of the airy and whimsical kind. Almost resembling spores, they sink into the carpet which a gurgling sound. Samus's original suit of armor collapses to the carpet, making a loud crash as jagged pieces of metal bang up against other jagged pieces of metal.

Shulk looks down at his wrist, seeming the blemish already fading away, the heat leaving his skin where he suddenly feels come over with a chill.

He looks around, seeing himself to be the only one in the hallway, no one else out on the terrace.

The blonde exhales, hauling the suit of armor into his arms.

"I need to find Samus," he breaths out. "And fast!"

Down the hall Shulk goes, heart racing a mile a minute.

Deep below, the depths ache and moan.

* * *

Will's tongue is clouded, as if someone dripped poison onto the organ and makes him incapable of speaking. He looks at Samus, the bounty hunter crossing her arms with an amused look on her face. He feels his sister pat him on the back reassuringly, the athlete jogging up the remaining set of stairs to the mansion's ground level, out of the arena's range. He watches his twin go, Wanda's warmth and comfort lingering behind like a pocket of wind that he can keep in his pocket.

A lump forms in his throat, and the apology he wishes to utter is blocked. It causes him to nearly choke on his spit, never having had this problem before as far back as he can recall. _She's just a girl. She can't hurt me. I can't hurt her anymore than I already have. Here Samus is, willing to speak with me, and my heart can't prevail._

He inches forward and places one shaky foot on the step in front of him.

"You decided to watch." He isn't asking a question, but he isn't necessarily making a statement ending with a full stop. It is open-ended, wide to numerous interpretations that can be thrown in various directions. Will places a hand on the railing, the sleek metal shooting upwards at an angle. Even now, Samus is leering down at him from her taller height, and all the flustered man is able to do is sit there and accept what is most likely going to be a verbal beating.

He winces inwardly, expecting a slap, or something. What he does not expect is Samus to throw her arms around him in a hug. That hadn't entered his mind. Will hugs back, as what a gentleman would do, but this time he does it not out of duty, but out of necessity. Strength returns to his bones, a smile gracing his lips as he leans back.

Samus pulls away first, but she does not make eye contact with him. "Shulk managed to convince me," she says, running a hand through the back of her ponytail. Her body still feels like a cinderblock cemented to the gymnasium floor, still pounding away at a punching bag to exert her anger and sense of uselessness. The joints ache and moan to stay still, to not go and entertain idle fantasies that do not make sense, and she not try and make sense of them either. It is her intuition that the only path she is heading down is pain, but the angel on her shoulder whispers words of wisdom and enlightenment.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Very," she admits. "But lesser than this morning, and definitely lesser from last night." Samus lets out a sigh, an enormous amount of pressure releasing off of her shoulders in one fell swoop. The bounty hunter looks past Will and at the stage, scorch marks from Diddy Kong's failed rocket blast still there on the blue mat. The stains are fading slowly, and Samus compares that to the damage inflicted on her heart. Will's words were never meant to hurt her. Only words to make her realize and direct a source of troubled ills. A wall that puts around herself blocks human emotion from responding, and rather she acts out of anger than patience.

"Part of you must be happy to see me get beaten into the dirt by Greninja," Will cracks a goofy grin, eyes lowered at her in a playful tone. "Wanda certainly hit me hard enough."

"I enjoyed that bit, I'll admit," Samus smirks back, and the two share a laugh.

Will turns around to place his elbows on the outer rim of the Smasher viewing area. The metal is cold to the touch of his arm, hair bristling along whatever is coming in contact with the steel. Samus follows and mirrors his exact movement, arms located in the same place, head at the same angle with a tilted down nuance to it. Both stand in silence, and she reminisces about last night. Instead of a mozzarella moon shining high and bright in the sky, it is a radiant sun that causes beads of sweat to trickle down her forehead.

As his tongue feels clouded, her arms are tired and sore, as if she's been holding up an entire burden with her for so long. It has only been twelve hours, and yet a lifetime of history has passed between them. Samus can feel it through the unspoken words, by the gestures and looks given across tables or stares driven into backs. The blonde bounty hunter does not punch her fury away because she's pissed off at Will, but because anger surmounts in her chest at the rage at how she cannot move past mistakes and errors done before there was a Will Forrest.

"I'm sorry," he exhales after the silence stays its due. "For mentioning Subspace to you." He tenses again when the word leaves his mouth, ready to calm her down in case the utterance causes her to fly off the handle - Lucas is much worse, a constant tea kettle threatening to over spill and spew fiery waste in its wake - but nothing happens. Samus stays contentedly perched in her spot.

"I'm sorry for being such a jerk," Samus apologizes, her words full of delight and truth; an airy and sweet melody to all those who hear it. The blonde snorts at the metaphor. She's no Snow White, no Rosalina or Peach coming straight out of a fairytale book. Her words are spoken through fists that are brawn and brash. "You made a simple mistake and I reacted harshly. I couldn't even stay horribly upset at you for more than twelve hours!"

"It felt like an eternity."

"That I cannot help you with, Will Forrest."

Both laugh again, and he keeps his smile. Will turns around so his back is leaning up against the rim, straining his spine as he bends backwards. A satisfying crack hits his ears, and Will quips a larger smile at Samus's upturned nose. She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment, taking a gander at what else she could possibly do. She squeezes her hands together and pulls. All ten knuckles pop like soda tabs, a resounding _woosh_ of air following suit. Will cringes.

"That's gross," he makes a face.

"So is your back!" Samus gasps. She leans forward on her elbows. "You are actually a really good fighter," she compliments him. "I didn't expect to really ever say that to you, but in all honesty, you are. Hula hoop rings and soccer balls make up for your lack of jumping ability, and for some reason that you don't wear a cup."

Will feigns a face of surprise. "Hey! I didn't expect Palutena to shoot so low! She's a goddess, and I expected her to have some moral limits on mere subjects such as myself. I'm nothing special. I'm not a water Pokemon ninja that can summon water glaives out of nowhere, nor am I a jet-packing, peanut shooting monkey! My power is on my dexterity and grace."

"The dexterity of a bear," Samus snorts.

Will pushes her playfully, happy to have the good ole' Samus Aran that he knows and loves back to his side where he'll forever stay on the path of holding his tongue. Both stand in place a moment more, letting the sounds of air conditioning fill the empty space. Clouds cause the sun's light to turn into shadows, pillars falling on miscellaneous bleacher benches. Dust particles float in the air, a column rising higher and higher to the glass pane surface.

He furrows his eyebrows together, stirring slightly. Samus notices this, standing upright.

"What's the matter?" she asks.

"Nothing," Will assures her. He tosses a glance back up at the glass sun roof. He swears, even for a moment, that a blob or a figure - a figure more than likely, as this blob is too well sculpted if that's the case - peering into the glass panes. A chill latches onto his arms, and for a moment he feels as if this entity is staring at _him._ Focused on he and Samus. Then it is gone, vanished to the wind and he passes it along as an eye trick.

Some discordant bursts of sound echo around the walls from up top, on the ground level of the mansion. Samus and Will cock their heads upwards.

"Is that Shulk?" She throws a mystified glance his way.

Will shrugs. "I think so."

"Has anyone seen Samus? Or Will? Anyone?" the blonde Monado wielder's voice shatters the quiet peacefulness of the empty arena. He appears at the top of the stairs, looking down on them. Shulk catches their eyes, barreling down the steps two at a time, and the athletic trainer fears his friend will miss one and bust his head wide open.

Samus is taken aback by the boy's disheveled appearance. Shulk's hair is a wild lemonade tornado, wisps sticking this way and out. He's drenched in sweat, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. His chest heaves up and down, and if Will cranes his ear enough, he can practically feel the vibration of the poor boy's heart hammering in his chest.

"He looks like he's been spooked..." Will whispers.

Samus places a hand on Shulk's shoulder. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Shulk takes a second to catch his breath. "There's something I need you two to see."

The other two Smashers lock eyes with each other. Will thinks it may have to do with what he could've seen up on the roof. But those are mere illusions? Tricks of the mind, nothing more, nothing less.

Or are they?

And if they are not tricks...

Will's blood runs icy cold.

If he isn't seeing things, the question must be begged.

What did Will Forrest see?

* * *

 **I believe this is a good stopping point! Just like last chapter, there was another scene I wanted to include, but didn't see the need for it. Plus my arms are tired and if I don't post when I go by my gut feeling, I never get around to it. So that was Chapter #5: Edification, of Brinstar Depths! I took the Shulk sword scene from The Two Towers, the second Lord of the Rings movie when Eowyn is practicing in secret and Aragon comes up behind her to block a strike. Do you all see a running motif with Will and Shulk? Maybe both men feel like they're too big for their britches, eh?**

 **If anyone guessed correctly, you all have been introduced to Member #2 of the four supporting character squad. Our very own Lucina! After tossing this back and forth with fellow reader and reviewer Maxcy, I wanted another female character opposite of Samus and Wanda that is athletic, and immediately Sheik came to mind. But since I am writing Shulk in Syrenet, I didn't want to include another main character of that story in here as well, and I haven't written about this Ylisse warrior since Icarus Chronicle, so I thought it would be a good fit. Her and Shulk have a delightful banter, and I think I'm going to love writing their friendship.**

 **Samus and Will have kissed and made up, if only at slight. I'm trying to portray Samus as this broken yet sturdy woman who does not constantly let struggle get in her way. If she is able to prevail at kicking butt, then there needs to be some war happen inside her emotions that she cannot keep straight. Will is more lighthearted than her, and that balances out fairly nice.**

 **And it looks like these depths that so desperately want to mess with our characters have taken another step. This time we're targeted at Samus's own suit of armor that has been damaged. What do you believe the purpose of this is? I'd be surprised to hear your answers. In other news, I am excited to have this chapter finished and out of the way. There will not be an update for next week, but for the week after that, so please review and let me know what you thought! Next chapter, Chapter #6: Fortification, will finally introduce us to our last main character of the summary, and his role will be one of fun and large importance. I love you all so much! Thanks for reading! Have an amazing day!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	6. Chapter 6: Fortification

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #6: Fortification. As I've been saying on all my story updates, I'm sorry for taking so long as I can thank Hurricane Irma for running through and ruining my birthday lol, then missing seven days of school and playing massive catch-up on everything else I had fallen behind with; fanfiction purely was not a priority, and now that I'm ready to get in gear, I'm kicking butt, having already written 10k in the past two days... and that this chapter is a 6k, hey, I'm not doing that bad! :D Last chapter brought to Shulk's attention that something is definitely off... a false Samus holding Samus's armor which turns out to be destroyed and then happens to be working, and everything is messed up lol. Samus and Will have reconciled, and Will saw something maybe he wasn't supposed to see... DUN, DUN, DUN. Mystery afoot! I want to say thank you to Maxcy Leland, Metroid-Killer, and TemUltimate for reviewing. Please enjoy Chapter #6: Fortification.**

* * *

 _"Perhaps love is a minor madness. And as with madness, it's unendurable alone. The one person who can relieve us is of course the sole person we cannot go to: the one we love. So instead we seek out allies, even among strangers and wives, fellow patients who, if they can't touch the edge of our particular sorrow, have felt something that cuts nearly as deep." ~ Andrew Sean Greer_

A large orange pile of armor falls out of Shulk's hands as the trio of him, Samus, and Will enter the empty cafeteria. A few Waddle Dees were stumbling around, preparing lunch - looked like it would be another day of turkey sandwiches, and Will, bless him, did not have an affinity for turkey - but save for their occasional dumbness and cute spills, they were alone. Samus sits across from Shulk, Will by her side as usual. Some of the Waddle Dees look up in curiosity, but none turned their way or gave suspicious looks.

Will rests his chin underneath a fist of his, leaning forward on the table. Samus links her hands together, sitting straight up on the bench while Shulk rummaged around, separating the bits of her suit around so each lay in a line with one another. Although sunlight pocketed in the corners, Samus's arms lined with chills, and she gave cold breaths as if the temperature had plunged down to near sub-zero temperatures. However, looking at Shulk and Will, neither seemed affected. She frowns.

What was going on?

"Start from the beginning," she instructs, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Shulk's normally sunny disposition seems to be slightly clouded, as there are many things the blonde cannot explain, but then there are few things he _cannot explain,_ which are two totally different categories when looking at the big picture. He closes his eyes, stretching his arms out on the table. "A few days ago, in my sleep, I was awoken by a loud crash. Thunder, the whole shebang..." he begins. "Standing in the doorway was you," Shulk nods his head at Samus.

"Me?" Samus stutters out a nervous laugh. "I think I'd recall going into your room."

"It looked like you... but it wasn't you," Shulk says, eyes focusing on the suit of armor discarded on the table. "I asked who it was, and then the person... I can't even think of another word to use, _spoke._ "

"What did they say?" Will leans forward, tilting his head.

"Something about the depths. Brinstar Depths."

Samus recoils away from the table, her body enveloping in a cold, sudden chill. She's reminded of red; red soil that spills from the ceiling, blood that soaks her feet, and a monstrous roar deep from the depths of a black abyss she cannot see the end of. Spiny creatures shuffling on the walls, a heartbeat that echoes in her ears like a foreboding drum. At the center, in Brinstar's core... a monster, a _beast,_ scaly and sickly green, spikes protruding from it's stomach... Samus has never seen anything like it. A maw filled with razor sharp teeth. Black eyes that zero in on her, pitiless black holes that swallow her whole and she's paralyzed by this... this demon of an underworld unbeknownst to her.

"Kraid..." she whispers.

"What?" Will looks at her.

"On Brinstar. A planet with covered in red soil... and at its depths, a beast. It was named Kraid."

"Was?" Shulk raises an eyebrow.

"I slayed it," Samus answers without batting an eye. She remembers, she _hears_ as the cave shakes and the lava roars, and she's trying not to look down lest she fall either into the creature's jaw or be vaporized in a second by the ferocious fiery sea below. She locks eyes with the blonde swordsman, who flinches at the steeliness of her gaze. "Master Hand created a stage based off of it during the first tourney, Planet Zebes. Then we were given two stages in Melee. Brinstar that we have now and-"

"Brinstar Depths," Will finishes for her. "A rotating stage that a mechatronic Godzilla like figure in the back spun. 'Lava' below the stage..."

"Master Hand knew that Brinstar was a crippling experience, and he goes and creates two stages based off of my adventures," the bounty hunter wishes she were in bed. Getting up and forgiving Will for his overstepped boundary, to now turn into this discussion of a darker past than even Subspace... perhaps her covers were the closest thing to a haven she'd have in the entire mansion. Then she furrows her brow in confusion. "You said this apparition that looked like me said something about Brinstar Depths? That stage is defunct, a huge pile of scrap in some landfill miles away from here. Probably on another continent at this point."

Shulk shrugs. "Hey, I'm just telling you what I've been told."

"Then what about the armor?" Will nods at it.

The blonde blanches at it, experiencing the same chill Samus had felt only moments before. The warm sun felt wonderful on his skin, his interaction with Lucina made him blush, and now he's terrified of what is possibly coming up in the tale that has been weaved for him. "I was training out on the terrace. Lucina spoke me to for a few moments about swordplay, and then out of the corner of my eye I saw you," he says, gesticulating back to Samus.

"But it wasn't me," she understands the big picture. "I couldn't have been over by the terrace because I had been watching Will's brawl with Greninja, Palutena and Diddy Kong. We were speaking before you found us. It was the purple apparition of me, then?"

"The apparition was holding your armor, this one here," Shulk picks up one of the shoulder pads. "I assumed it was you because how one of your alternate colors is a navy, violet color. But... I then tried grabbing her shoulder and it was the same thing that appeared in my bedroom. Your armor was all scratched up, everything dismantled with wires poking out of the holes, as if this person carrying it had dismantled it themselves. She screeched something about the depths having been awakened once again, calling for Samus Aran to join them, and then vanished. All the armor fell to the ground, I picked it up, and then it all reverted back to normal. All the wires were put back in place, and I couldn't see any noticeable damage..."

Samus takes the shoulder pad away from Shulk. Her mind wanders back to the Research Facility on the Isle of Ancients - she will not say the name of the incident, nor what had been going on during that time - with Pikachu trotting merrily by her. The poor creature, the Pokemon known to be so sweet, to be catapulted into such a vicious experiment... she knew the mouse for quite some time and there was no way in hell she'd let the electric rat suffer. Samus to this day has no idea how she lost her suit. One moment she's closing her eyes for a quick nap, the next, she's lying on the floor in some room drowning in greyscale, her armor gone, and all she has is her plasma gun and whip.

The struggle it took to get that back, fighting through waves of R.O.B's and other Subspace creatures - a hail of gunfire erupts above her, one-eyed orbs launching themselves at her, the lifeless red eyes of a Primid grabbing her by the neck and vaulting her into a wall, and a amaranthine dragon with beady yellow eyes - to then deal with Subspace clones... to finally have the thing in her arms that made Samus Aran, _Samus Aran._

Examining the shoulder pad, she flips it over, looking at the wires. Everything seems to be in tip top shape, no evident scratches than what Shulk caused by ever so gracefully dropping her pile of armor onto the table.

Something tugs on the back of her mind, like a whisper threatening to spill from her lips without prior consent.

"I saw something too..." she whispers.

Shulk raises an eyebrow. "I thought it was only me."

"What happened?" Will asks.

"It was last night," Samus answers, looking at the brunette. His skin goes white, eyes widening and hands outstretching as if to place them on her arm. "After you left, I stayed out there for a few moments. I walked back inside, and something whispered to me. I couldn't hear what the thing said, but looking back... I thought I saw a figure standing where I had been. No face, but a definite mass of something. A gigantic purple blob of shadow, and then it vanished. I thought nothing of it and went to sleep. But... if Shulk saw something not just once, _but_ twice, then I think something is up."

"What should we do about it?" Shulk questions aloud. He has several ideas, such as one involving perhaps burning down the mansion and everyone moving to Cancun, forgetting Smash and all of the great years spent battling never existed... but it's asinine and it'd be shot down by the actual adults at the table.

Samus looks at Will, noticing how he's biting his lip, as if he's wanting to speak up and say anything but nothing comes out of his mouth, even after they sit in silence for a few moments. "I don't think we should tell Master Hand yet. Not till something super serious happens, because so far, all whatever this thing has done is mess with my armor," she looks down at it with a frown. "And it looks just fine, so I can't possibly imagine what happened."

"What if this is an elaborate prank?" Will muses.

"Then whoever is doing this has a few problems they need checked out up top," Shulk grimaces. "Besides, it clearly seems to be targeting not just me, but Samus, and if we ask around... maybe other people will have information as well."

"What do you think Samus?" the fitness trainer looks at her adoringly. He's stunned by how beautiful she is, her lemonade hair glowing effusively in the sunlight. Part of him wants to blab about seeing the disfigured shape on top of the dome of the stadium from only a few minutes ago, but he's unsure of what he saw and with Samus already walking on eggshells, he'd rather not turn something in to what it isn't. He's no sleuth at solving apparitions targeting his friends and love interests, and he probably never will be.

The bounty hunter drops the piece of her armor back onto the table. Over in the other corner of the cafeteria, the Waddle Dees had finished making the turkey sandwiches, ringing the enormous gong that they always hit to signal food throughout the entire mansion. Within a matter of minutes, the rest of the Smashers would groggily pour in and it would be no place to discuss possible terrorizations of the compound without raising some hysteria. Samus gets hit with a thought of brilliance, a light bulb going off in her head.

"I'm going to take my suit of armor back to my room," she says, standing up hurriedly, throwing each piece into her arm. "Will, after lunch, meet me in the billiards room." With that, Samus begins to run away from the table, almost dropping the suit which piled like a mountain between her arms.

Will stands up, calling after her. "Why?"

"Just meet me there!"

The fitness trainer looks at Shulk, the blonde shrugging. "Who knows," Shulk laments. His facial expression, which had been down into complacent thinking, brightens up with a smirk. "You hungry? Last person to get their sandwich is a rotten egg!" He bolts from his spot, Will rolling his eyes.

Although the sinker had been childish, it got a laugh out of him. Will's stomach growls, and he sighs, running half-heartedly after the blonde, an appetite growing by the second.

And a worsening feeling of everlasting regret mounting on his shoulders as well.

* * *

Libraries were something of a rare luxury in life, thought Lucario, the Aura Pokemon. The vulpine currently sat at a table inside the mansion's library, a chess board in front of him, his attention spurring between moving a chess piece and going back to the book in front of him. _Knowledge is power, and it is disappointing that there are so few youngsters in this compound who hardly think about ever coming here to read on history._ He flips the page, taking in the five hundred word count in a matter of seconds, before flicking to the next one.

Over in the corner, someone else is scanning the shelves, completely forgetting about the chess game happening between them, but he doesn't mind. Youthful minds of the day are so flighty and elusive, even Lucario has trouble pinning down where one wants to land. He has always enjoyed silence - a spiked glacier, a knight with bat wings, a sleek battleship, darkness, more darkness, and gleaming red eyes - and that is where he gravitates towards in time of uncertainty. Though nothing is troubling the Aura Pokemon as of late, his mind is constantly whirling in motion and is in need of a recharge on something that'll snag his interest. Currently, splayed out on white pages and clotted ink, is a detailed report on the moon cycle. The sun and moon exist in Sinnoh, but Lucario has always been fascinated with the one on Earth, and so, there happens to be a book ideally for giving him answers.

He looks up, staring at the other person in the room. "You were late by three minutes," Lucario observes thoughtfully, closing the book on his furry arm. "You've never been late."

The person he's speaking to, the navy haired swordswoman Lucina, tosses him a bereft glance. "Well, I am not you, so I don't get so anal about being everywhere on time."

"It's a lesson," Lucario says, and Lucina hits her head against one of the bookshelves with a groan, as she sees where this is heading. As to what the vulpine calls it, a teachable moment, a life lesson by a guru who happens to know a few and far things in between on the schematics of life. "You start showing up late to an assigned meeting, it becomes a habit. Habits are hard to break, Lucina, and we all know how you get with habits. You still haven't worn out of that Earthly boy band phase?"

"It's not a phase," Lucina scowls. "Ylisse doesn't have 'boy bands', so if I am going to try and be like an Earthly girl, I might as well enjoy what they have to offer. And again, Luc, it's not a phase, but a way of life."

Lucario rolls his eyes. "Millennials," he mutters. He opens the book on the cycle of the moon again, resuming his reading. "It's your turn again."

Lucina crosses over to the table with the chess set, moving a white horse three spaces up and then one to the left. She goes back to looking at the bookshelves. After a chess game with Lucario, the swordswoman's mind is exhausted and needs something childish and frilly to get her back into being sharp. Marth wags a finger at her during dinner all the time on how he never, _never_ has a dull moment and is constantly on alert. Lucina prefers reading vapid romance novels with a substantial lack of substance to them. It is the same hogwash formula day in and day out she notes. Some guy, or as the author who probably has had terribly skewed experiences with romance, a 'hunk' is new to town. Drives a beat up pickup truck, has the muscles of a giant, and saves the damsel in distress off her feet. She's rescued from some shoddy job, a deadbeat relationship with a guy she possibly can't like, and they go the country.

By the time Lucina reaches page fifteen, she's dead asleep with the book on the floor. If it is partly interesting, which there have been several cases - Lucina's not _that_ cynical - she goes to Peach and demands a quick and easy synopsis. The princess of the Mushroom Kingdom has to have had read every droopy romance novel in the entire library.

It's a large library.

Lucario doesn't even look up from his moon story, knocking out Lucina's horse with a pawn that must've entirely ignored.

"You're slipping today. Normally you are very on point."

"Did you build that like a case study," she retorts. "It took you seventeen years to say that?"

"Five minutes. But close." Flick of the page. "Your turn."

Lucina sighs, moving her king up a space. Unfortunately, because she had moved the horse, it left her in prime spot for checkmate, with Lucario's queen directly down the board to hit a direct attack. The king had nowhere else to move, being blocked by both bishops. "I don't even know why I play with you," she complains. "You beat me every time."

Lucario closes the book, seeing that perhaps there's something that needs to be discussed with Lucina, given she's normally never so off kilter and snappy even in her worst days, which are aplenty. Marth's seen thousands of them. "Well, then I think that means you should start learning your mistakes, and seeing mine as well. I went easy on you," His eyes begin to scan the shelves as well, as pretty soon he'd be done with the moon cycle research paper and needed new source material. "Oh, and checkmate."

She scowls, picking a random book off the shelf, plopping herself down in the chair in front of Lucario. He nods his head deeply, before putting the board back up in the box, followed by the chess pieces. Lucina loudly opens the novel she chose, the cover covered in a red spread with silver writing lacing the rest of it, which loudly claps against the table.

The vulpine pushes his chair back, beginning to wander around the room. After a game of chess, generally it's Lucina, other times it's been Bowser or Ganondorf, he likes to mediate and ponder on the steps he took to win the latest game. He hasn't lost once since he's been at the mansion, although the Metal Gear agent Snake has come close a few times, but he suspects that'll change. Even though he beat Lucina in a matter of ten turns, he's working down to try and win in only seven, and soon three.

"You don't have to be so smug about winning, you know," Lucina says aloud to the room, though Lucario knows she's speaking directly to him. Or, she very well could be preaching to the oak bookshelves and the cramped chandelier swinging above if it pleases her, because he doesn't dictate what she can and cannot speak to. "Sometimes a winner can be humble."

"Yes, that is true," Lucario admits, standing by the nonfiction section to do his meditating. "There's also something called being a sore loser. Have you heard of it?"

Lucina scoffs. "I am not a sore loser."

"Saying that you are not something, unless it is truly extreme, generally means that you are."

"Fallacious reasoning," she sniffs.

"Pardon?" Lucario is finding it extremely difficult to meditate and relax with her constant chiming in, as if she's unable to let the argument - though there has been no argument to being with - die, and admit she's wrong. He hates to be so forward about teaching lessons in humility, because Lucario's dealt with the struggle of not winning brawls and not being fan favorites all the time, but they're a boil that must be speared with a lance and soothed over later.

"You made a generalization," Lucina turns around in her chair, smirking at the vulpine. "Just because someone says they aren't something doesn't mean _they_ always are that way in reality. Like, you can say that I'm angry, I say that I am not angry, and it truthfully turns out that I am _not_ angry."

"But this isn't one of those times, is it?"

The swordswoman frowns again, averting her gaze into his piercing halcyon stare. "No."

Lucario closes his eyes, feeling the radiant and empowering feel of his aura surround him, levitating the Pokemon off of his feet, the Pokemon hovering above the ground by a few inches. He crosses his legs together should one wish to meditate, arms bent, paws pushed in towards his chest. Another bough of tranquility passes between them, which is only done by Lucina beginning to read the first page of her novel and realizing it'll be the same piece of crap as much as the rest of the library. Master Hand needs to invest in buying better books.

"Why were you late today?" Lucario asks, eyes still closed. And although his next thought process could be considered hypocritical, he does enjoy having conversations during his meditation, as it helps from keeping his musings and recollection of events from turning into something vain where it is all about him, but rather how his mediation is enlightening and helps highlight weaknesses and strengths of all that dealt with the said scenario.

"I sparred with Shulk out on the terrace."

He opens one eye, smiling gently but showing no teeth. "Because you wanted to speak with him, or because you thought he'd be on your swordsmanship level?" There's no response. Lucario throws another bone out there. "It is okay to admit to me that you like someone, Lucina. It's a human thing. I've fallen in love before, but I found out that the path of romance is not for me, but one of knowledge," he ganders, but still nothing. "Do you like Shulk?"

Lucina chews on the bottom of her lip. "A little."

Lucario grins full out, feeling slightly like a father. "That's nice. He'll be good for you."

She sputters a sentence of indignation, full of breaks and missed syllables. "Good for me?"

"You underestimate him. Shulk is quite adept at changing his environment while he practices and spars."

"Not against me does he do well," Lucina says. "I turn him as red as an apple."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I-" Lucina starts, and then she catches onto what Lucario was trying to say. She pushes her chair out from underneath her, sniffing once again. "Have fun with your meditation, Lucario." Her voice is slightly less confident now, and the Aura Pokemon stays levitated as she stumbles out of the library, once again drowning him in peace and quiet.

He feels around the library, looking for a spot to focus in on, a place to rest and have his thoughts lie in. So far, nothing; an empty cell stares back at him with beady eyes, and then a flash.

Lucario opens his eyes, ending his meditation.

He frowns, walking over to the point where he had originally focused on, wherever the flash came from. He examines the bookshelf. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The vulpine presses his hand into one of the book spines - a gaudy purple one that he hadn't noticed before - and his hand vanishes into the bookshelf.

* * *

Will Forrestor has heard Samus Aran say some pretty wild things, all from launching fireworks off of the roof by using Link's bow, to switching sugar with salt in the Thanksgiving sweet potato casserole, but this one is for all the marbles. He meets up with her after lunch ends, having eaten a turkey sandwich despite knowing that his stomach will be in knots before the day is over. Shulk goes off to train some more, and the air in the mansion seems free and airy, as if the conversation from earlier hadn't even happened.

He finds her in the Billiards room, one of the larger areas in the mansion where there are twenty or so pool tables splayed out from end to end. Samus has her arms on the stairway banister overlooking the field of pool tables, several occupants taking up some tables already. Ike, Roy, Link, and Luigi of all people are huddled in one corner, splicing the table in a four-way free-for-all. Only one other player is in the room, by themselves, and Will's head begins to hurt by already watching them play for the past two or so minutes, the person going through three games already.

"We are not," he says after a few moments of silence between them.

"We are," Samus corrects.

"You are going to tell Sonic the Hedgehog about our problems?"

"Do you not like him?"

"He's got an ego!"

"So do you," Will begins to protest at Samus's accusation, but she backpedals. "So do I. Everyone in this mansion does, including Lucas and Ness. Sonic just happens to make his the most noticeable."

Will's stomach twists when looking at the blue hedgehog. Sonic is wearing his generally bright and colorful scarlet shoes and the white arm bands, as he dashes around the pool table at his normal showoff speed which causes his body to turn into a cerulean comet of fur and plastic. The sound of the cue stick clanging into the cue ball, and him scoring, is rapid as he effortlessly wins a game. _And game after game, after game, after game._

He's not distrustful of the guy, as he's entirely harmless and one of the sweetest souls of the planet - Will, to Sonic that is - but something about displaying how he's always better than everyone at brawling when in reality he isn't purely because of his speed, it rubs him the wrong way. Samus points him out, and now he's trying to put the pieces together on why Sonic the Hedgehog will save the befuddled trio from their depths mess.

"I'm going to go talk to him," Samus announces, beginning to go down the steps to join the floor.

"I think it's a bad idea!" Will throws his hands up in the air.

"If you want to stay by the steps like a four year-old, you do that. No one is stopping you," the bounty hunter teases, wading through the tables and walking over to where Sonic is playing.

Will throws his head up at the ceiling, groaning into his shoes. Why did she have to be so stubborn? And why did he have to find that so attractive? Ugh. Hormones. Against his better judgment, which seemed to be worth less and less as the days went by, Will runs after her and joins her by Sonic's table shortly after she got there first.

What the fitness trainer notices is that Sonic physically slows down and plays billiards at normal speed once they both walked up to him. Sonic lines his stick up with the cue ball, nagging the 4-ball into the upper right hand pocket. "Hey Samus! Hey Will!" he greets cheerfully, a huge smile playing on his face. Will does appreciate how joyful Sonic seems to get though, whenever a friend of his appears. Even some of the baddies enjoy the hedgehog's infectious company and airy laugh that comes out of the mouth of babes.

"Hey Sonic," Samus smiles.

"You wanna play?" the hedgehog grabs a water bottle that had been placed on another table, taking a long swig of it. Will sees that the tips of his fur are glistening with sweat, meaning he must've been racing around the pool table for quite some time to even get himself all winded.

"No thanks, we're good," she dissuades the offer. "I'm pretty sure you'd beat me every time. I'd have better luck playing Will."

"Hey!" Will blushes. "I'm not that bad!"

"But you aren't good either," Samus teases once more, and then to Sonic. "How long have you been here? You look worn out."

"Since eleven," he replies eagerly, snagging another win as the 2-ball goes bouncing off all the walls before hitting the left middle pocket. Will's eyes widen. It's currently two in the afternoon, meaning Sonic has been at the gambit for three hours doing the same exact game at least three hundred times plus. "Besides," Sonic shrugs, "I _look_ tired from all the sweat, but I'm not! Master Hand needs to invest in better air conditioning."

"Master Hand needs to invest in a lot of things," Samus agrees, giggling.

Sonic flips the pool stick upside down so the chalked side is pressing into the carpet. He places his elbow on the other end, letting the stick wobble unevenly in place. He takes another swig of water. "Is there something I can help you two with?"

Will listens to Samus retell the story that Shulk had mentioned to them, between the midnight stranger, Samus's vision, the scraps of armor being found in the apparition's possession, and how her armor despite the apparent ordeal it went through being unscathed. The brunette's mind wanders as he drones out the details, already hearing them at lunch. Will thinks back to the blob he saw on the roof of the arena. He is unable to recall if there were any words that he heard whispered to him, as of Shulk's recount that the apparition he'd been seeing didn't speak, but there were words that the blonde swordsman had heard which made it all the more unsettling.

He hadn't seen a face, but only a void of shifting darkness, as if in the pile of whatever the object had been made out of, was a thunderstorm changing spots within the amaranthine cloud of shadow. The intricacy of the strong and vibrant crimson colliding with an equally ferocious burst of halcyon - though it hadn't been a warm feel like sunshine, but cold and malevolent - is what lingers in Will's mind the most. And although there had been no discernible face, the brunette feels like there are bugs crawling over his arms thinking about whatever he had seen, at the direct fact it had been looking _at him,_ somehow, somewhere, whatever it had been leaving him uncertain in all possible tangents his mind could wander over.

The fitness trainer brings his attention to see how Sonic is taking the story, and the hedgehog's face is a mix of emotions. Sonic's brow is furrowed, most likely in deep thought, but the color steadily drains from his cheeks when Samus mentions the voice, particularly highlighting how often the _Brinstar Depths_ are mentioned, and how Master Hand scrapped the stage years ago when the Melee era had ended. The sound of Ike, Roy, Link, and Luigi's billiards game of their own acts as a great soundtrack as the Hero of Time utters a swear word when losing, or Ike bellowing out in happiness when he scores; the noises sharply contrast with the event at hand, and it ends with Samus flourishing her recollection by shrugging, admitting that whatever is going on has her worried.

That's news to Will's ears.

He furrows his eyebrows together, looking at her with sympathy.

"You're worried about this?"

"I think I have good reason to be," Samus retorts, though her rebuttal is not harsh. She gives her attention back to Sonic. "What do you think of it all?"

The hedgehog had dropped the pool stick to the ground long ago, which had fallen with a clatter, now resting his elbows on the pool table, eyes with disbelief. "I feel like I have to believe you. It's too elaborate sounding to be a prank, and the fact that your armor is in a working condition upsets me the most..." he takes a moment to let everything he had been told sink in. "So we're not telling Master Hand about this yet?"

Samus shakes her head in dissent. "I think it'd be too early. We still don't know if someone's pranking us, or there is a legitimate darkness out there that wants me to return to these 'depths', whatever that may mean."

"What are you planning on doing?"

Will leans in, not having heard anything of there being an exact course of action to take since Samus has been so flighty with her thoughts since lunch. The bounty hunter crosses her arms. "Tonight, and probably for a few others, you and I camp out on the Brinstar stage and see if anything erroneous happens."

"Why Brinstar?" Sonic asks.

"Since this apparition keeps referring to Brinstar Depths, the only other possible thing in this entire mansion with any relation to me _is_ that stage, which has been remodeled and kept since the very beginning. So... if there's any actual meaning behind Brinstar and a metaphorical depths, I can't think of any other spot here to give me any answers."

"And why me and not some other Smasher?" Sonic crosses his arms over his chest, looking puzzled.

"You're the fastest one here. If something actually dangerous were to happen, you're the one who can get to Master Hand the fastest. I'm going to have my suit of armor and my plasma whip with me as well, in case I have to fend off someone for you to get to safety."

"That sounds kind of dangerous Sam..." Will rubs his arms innocuously.

He's not liking this one bit, something smells fishy to him and the entire ordeal reeks of trouble and an instance where one misstep can lead to a snowball effect that could have disastrous consequences.

"There's no other choice we have!" Samus insists, almost stomping her foot on the carpet like a child. She looks back at Sonic. "Will you help me?"

The hedgehog nods immediately. "Most definitely."

"I'll see you at the entrance to the Brinstar stage around ten thirty tonight?"

"I'll be there," Sonic agrees.

Will watches the two shakes hands, agreeing on it, and now it couldn't be broken. A thought stirs in the back of his head.

Something makes him feel as if something is going to go terribly wrong.

And that this is just the beginning of something more.

Something more.

Something worse.

* * *

 **Le plot thickens! DUN, DUN, DUN! There we are ladies and gentlemen, Chapter #6: Fortification, of Brinstar Depths. We're getting somewhere, starting to build, oh build we are. And we have our entire cast of characters! Samus, Will, Shulk, and Sonic make up the main four - as you've now just met Sonic - with Wanda, Lucina, Lucario, and Mario acting as supporting characters. Even though Mario has yet to physically say anything, he was seen in Chapter 4 from afar by Will, who had been watching the match with Lucina, Lucario, and his sister. I'm really excited for these characters as I think it is a good mismatch of them in a general story where truthfully only Samus and Lucina are used the most commonly, and even then Lucina doesn't have a gigantic role.**

 **Shulk has now let Samus know of the trouble that's been going on, and it looks like she's got an action plan. Is she making a right choice with using Sonic as another person to help her, and not Will, even going so far to not tell him her plans? Any possible predictions on what might happen as the two go and scout out the stage for anything slightly out of the ordinary?**

 **Lucario and Lucina's interaction is my favorite of the chapter, purely because they're gonna have a snappy repertoire back and forth that'll make me giggle. I haven't written Lucario in a story in quite a long time, three years in fact, so it feels good going back to my roots in character choices. I think of he and Lucina as being a master, student sort of relationship where he coaches her on chess and reading and fighting, while she gets flustered and distracted *insert Shulk screaming in the distance* However, the big thing to note, is that Lucario found some anomaly in the library... such as, oh I don't know, your PAW going through a bookshelf! Any ideas as to what that is?**

 **Next chapter will be coming out sometime two weeks from now, still trying to keep that idea up because there is just so much that I do, and one day I'll learn. I'm striving for an update no later than Wednesday the 18th, with Chapter #7: Suspicion. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and most importantly being patient with me to get this story update out, as life is hectic as hectic can get. Let me know possible plot predictions or your general thoughts on where we're headed! Thank you all again. Have an amazing day! Love you all! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	7. Chapter 7: Suspicion

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #7: Suspicion. Last time, there was a lot afoot where Shulk showed Will and Samus the apparent torched and battered armor, Lucina spoke with Lucario on a matter of love and foolishness, and now our blonde bounty hunter has enlisted the service of a particular hedgehog to make sure everything in a certain Metroid stage is kempt. We are nearing, or is almost at the halfway point for the story, which brings me happiness and yet pain at the same time, as I've come to love this little 'world', if you will, that has come from this story, but I digress. I want to say thank you to Metroid-Killer and TemUltimate for reviewing, the insight is very well appreciated. Enjoy Chapter #7: Suspicion.**

* * *

 _"No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it." ~ Albert Einstein_

Wanda Forrestor appreciates silence. It is often a trait in people that goes unnoticed, as to nearly all, silence becomes unnerving after some time, to where the creaks of the floorboards and the scuttling of rats in the walls turns into the step of a specter or a chainsaw rattling the ceiling. Paranoia is a disease that runs rampant through even the bravest and strongest of people, yet Wanda finds herself taking to drowning in a precocious silence more often than not. She's currently outside, swinging in a hammock over looking the beach of the mansion, to take in the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore. A gorgeous moon shines above her, reminding Wanda of nights with campfires and blankets and marshmallows and parents that no longer exist.

She's always had a slight apprehension to the mansion, having been invited by Master Hand's watchful gaze that her and Will would bring something... different to a scheme of fighters that are roughish brutes, cocky swordsmen, damsels in distress, and heroes that are nearly indistinguishable from each other. As Master Hand puts it, an idea that Wanda still struggles with when given a moment alone, is that her and Will are what the sentient hand calls normal.

" _Normal?_ " the fitness trainer frowns to herself, as her body rocks back and forth in a gentle swing. " _How do you determine who's normal? Because Will and I don't have magic powers? Because we're not an animal or inanimate object that speaks?"_

Alienation is a powerful force, and she feels it all the time. Wanda likes to pretend that she doesn't see the sideways glances, that although they're not meant to be hurtful, there's a stinging sensation of pride down deep that is a cold agony of not being good enough. Will doesn't seem to get that sort of ridicule - _of course he doesn't,_ she scoffs, _he's the perfect, golden child_ \- and Wanda has always attributed it down to looks. Her brother, the gallant knight that he is, as she loves him with all her heart, is the perfect sibling. A tan cropped face with freckles and dimples and a grin that makes women weak in the knees, a voice that is as sultry as it is velvety, and fighting skills that go unmatched... it is as if the dice have been rolled perfectly in his favor every single step of the way. But, in Will, there's an innocence that has yet to be broken, and Wanda finds it quite amusing that at his tender age, well into his mid-twenties that nothing has broken his heart. A stabbing pain, one that routes through the spine and out the front like a scream of terror.

The two have been on their own for some time, and Wanda is cheated of any glory that she deserves; rightfully so she is going to resurrect old feelings and old aspirations to rise on them, make a name separate of her brother. She closes her eyes and can still hear the pained howls that ride the night, or the amber glows that flicker across her face as the carpets and linens are devoured in a cardinal flare. The grass is charred black underneath her tiny feet, as she tags her twin brother along, and they're both sobbing as the world around them burns. It burns fiercely, and there's a face in the fire that she no longer recognizes.

Wanda looks away from the moon, the surface having gilded over a scorched crimson in her mind. As she turns her head, another person seems to have occupied the terrace space with her, looking to take to the other hammock.

She rights herself, surprised to see who her company is.

"Mario?" Wanda asks, frowning.

The plumber, the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom, the eternal legend as some would say... and he's taken up his time to spend it with Wanda Forrestor, the forgotten. Mario is in his later years, nearing his fifties with gray spouts starting to form in his normally wild and vivacious brown hair. His sapphire eyes are filled to the brim with wisdom, reflective glass pools that show fear, understanding, compassion, love, and hatred. His portlier body stands quite short than most, compared to his taller brother after all, but yet there's bulking muscle underneath that is only granted to a man after he saves his princess from a tyrant turtle over and over again as if it is Groundhogs Day.

Mario has one gloved hand resting on the top hook of the hammock, the other by his side. He looks over at Wanda, smiling. "Oh, hello! Wanda," he nods. "I thought there wouldn't be anyone out here."

"It's late," Wanda notes. "You aren't normally asleep?"

The plumber chuckles lowly, deeply. "I am usually asleep this late. I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"I get cases of insomnia," Mario says, deciding to flop his body on the hammock. It slightly creaks underneath his weight, buckling it place, and poor Wanda fears it'll fling him all the way to the sea and beyond. An ironic and sad way to die, she laments to herself.

She frowns. "Insomnia?"

Mario locks eyes with her, and the warmness in his gaze is slightly subdued. "I've been alive nearly twice as long as you have, and in the past thirty years, I've done a lot. I threw Bowser into the lava more times than I can count. I've fought off a dynasty of Subspace as had been herded into being the ringleader despite not always wanting a lot of pressure on my shoulders," his eyes lighten some. "It's almost sad, how often the rest of the Smashers come to me for help or my leadership. I don't always want to do it, but something inside me compels me to." A pause. "Why are you out here?"

Wanda crosses her arms against her chest, looking back up at the night sky. "Whenever I want to think, I come out here for the peace and quiet. It clears my head."

"And what do you have to think about?"

The woman bites her lower lip, almost drawing blood. She doesn't want to say it, as if it's almost sacrilegious to do so, but the irony is that her situation has nothing to do with religion, but simple familial issues. After seeing Will get his butt handed to him by Greninja in the arena, she leaves and goes off on her own. Later that afternoon, she runs into Will while heading to the cafeteria for dinner. Her brother seems preoccupied with something, inside his head no doubt, and a troubled look is plastered on his face. Wanda stops him, as the good sister that she strives to be, and asks what's wrong. She has seen many emotions cross her brother's face in the time that they've known each other, however none like the one she sees when she asks him the question.

Will sighs, gives a look of confusion, anger, pain, and sadness in one fell swoop, before stalking off, leaving Wanda alone in the hallway. She and Will are twins, both brought into the world by the same mother, both raised in the same household, both removed from the household at a young age, and Wanda is his protector, his shield, his life, and his tethered rope. To see him be so cold and dismissive to her is something that warrants alarm. There's never been a single thing that he has been able to hide from her in their many years together, almost as if the twins are tied at the hip and can tell what the other is thinking. A sibling's intuition, she calls it, and always has taken pride in the fact that they're so close. He's never denied her the answer to anything, but now that there's such an occasion that has arisen, it troubles Wanda more than when she started to smell the gas and her parents denied it, saying she is dreaming of a barbecue rather than the potential house fire later that evening.

She rubs her brow. "Will is hiding something from me."

Mario raises an eyebrow. "Why does that bother you?"

"We're twins. We've always shared everything with one another, and the thing he's holding from me is causing him distress," Wanda explains, holding a hand close to her heart. "I can feel it, as if he's being torn up inside."

"A girl problem? I imagine he simply doesn't want to tell you about this person," the plumber shrugs. "Are you sure you're not using a hyperbole?"

"No." A firm shake of the head.

Mario frowns. "I see. What do you think it is, then?"

"I honestly don't know," Wanda says.

Her mind has a million answers stored inside, but they're all troublesome and nothing good that can come of them if what she believes to be true _is_ true. There's a time - Wanda hates thinking of it - when there's a storm in the middle of summer, and it washes away something close and dear to Will's heart; the boy is twelve, youthful, and knows little of the world. After the damage is done by the hurricane, Will sits at the window of their new home, crying and looking out at the wasteland as he watches the nostalgia of his old life be flooded away, and he does not speak for two years. Even then, with the amount of pain that their parents' grave being flooded away brings, it still does not compare to the pain he's holding when she looks at him.

She's seen this look only once before, and by that point Wanda is too late to react to it and watches her entire world fall apart because of it. Not to her brother will she lose him, definitely if she has anything to say about it.

"Depression..." she finalizes after a moment of thought, nodding her head low. "I think Will is depressed."

"Depressed? From what?" Mario asks.

"I have no idea."

"And what would Will do with this 'depression'?"

"He's very off the handle with his emotions," Wanda answers. "He has outbursts when things don't go his way, or he holds a grudge a little too far... Will and I have a difficult childhood and it hasn't been kinder over the years. We may be in a mansion and have nothing to worry about besides staying in shape, but something always stays attached to my brother's mind and haunts him, whether it be significant or insignificant."

Mario sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock. "If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, that's not something you keep to yourself."

"And what would I do?" she snaps. "Tell Master Hand? What will he do? Evict my brother from the premises? Lock him in some funny farm? I don't know what it is, if he's depressed, and I can't exactly say how far his pain and suffering will go!"

"Wanda..." the plumber's voice is impossibly soft.

The athlete shakes her head in dissent, gritting her teeth. "It's just a suspicion. Nothing more."

She looks back up at the sky, and for a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless, wishes for nothing more than a peal of fire to devour her from the sky.

* * *

Samus has always thought that the stage Brinstar seemed hot when fighting on it, let alone when being stuck at a permanent height until the stage is to be used for a brawl for a later date. Now? The stage is a boiler and she's glad she brought extra upon extra bottles of water with her or she's afraid she'll fall into a comatose heatstroke state because of the heat.

She crosses her legs underneath each other, sitting crisscross on one of the middle platforms of the Brinstar stage, looking around. Sonic is running around the other unoccupied areas of the battlefield like the Energizer bunny with nothing to do. It's only been half an hour, if that, of her simply observing the stage and seeing if there's something amiss that'd scream to her as purple demons wanting to overthrow the world, or an idea of the like. However, she'll admit that a constant cerulean blur running around her like it's some game is starting to get annoying to her, and annoying fast.

The blonde makes a pun and doesn't even acknowledge it.

"You're hurting my eyes," she comments, watching Sonic make several rounds.

He comes to a halt, and all of his forward motion makes her dizzy as the world slowly spins. Sonic raises an eyebrow at her. "What?" he defends himself. "I'm bored and there's nothing to do in here except look at the flesh-like walls. How do you know the stage won't lower and we'll fall into the lava?"

"The stages don't work when they're closed," Samus says. "They're like amusement park rides. No one turns them on, nothing happens."

"People sneak into parks at night and do that anyways..." Sonic frowns. His face darkens. "What if someone were to do that to us? A villain decides to turn on the stage and roast us?"

"I don't think that'll happen."

Sonic shrugs. "It's just a thought."

"A silly one."

"As if you've never thought or said silly things."

"Are you simply going to argue with me the entire time?" Samus crosses her arms together, looking at the hedgehog with a serious expression.

"There's nothing better to do."

She rolls her eyes, going back to looking around the stage. The flesh like walls bother her, they've always bothered her with the sickly pink and muted gray that clash together, or the appendage sticking in the back of the stage that violently shakes when the stage is moved either up or down, corresponding with a lava rise as well. The heat is undeniably unbearable, but Samus believes that there is nowhere else to go or to go and make sense of this sort of thing. She brings her knees tight to her chest, hugging them to herself, frowning.

Unless someone is pulling a massive prank on her, then Samus Aran has a shadow or spirit or demon that is following her and a few select friends around, letting their presence be known by simply acting creepy. It gets to her that the entire day has been one freakish encounter after another, from the time on the terrace to Shulk giving her apparently tainted armor. It sits on her mind, like an insatiable itch that does not go away, and she's left to scratch it and scratch at the sneaky spot until her fingertips are dipped in cardinal and her eyes flash in pain.

Memories of Subspace have never been fun - the bounty hunter nearly dies more times than she can count, _and_ then does die only to be saved by Kirby... try putting that on a job application. Experience? Died and came back to life. - whether it be a stabbing headache because of Ridley slamming her against the side of the Bomb Factory air terminal, or to hear Pikachu's pained cries as the voltage gets higher and higher, and the room greener and greener while the electric mouse's pain skyrockets.

The emerald flowing robes of the Ancient Minister, a being who has caused her so much stress... to now be freely moving and fixing the mansion as if the robot's crimes have been erased. It hits her with a pang, that the person who saved them all again is sitting with her - well, running is a better description - and she's never once thanked him. She shudders about that day, once Kirby found the rest of the Smasher gang stuck in the Subspace maze, and the band of heroes glare at Tabuu again, expecting different results. Tabuu's wings, porcelain and stained glass with the colors of the rainbow, start to protrude from its back, and the Smashers all freeze. Mario is the most upset as he is not counting on the boss and overlord of Subspace to be able to use this power again, and there may be no way to stop an eternal, everlasting tide of darkness.

A rocket races by the group collected, and like a bullet it shatters the tips of Tabuu's wings. There's no time for introductions as a shiny blue hedgehog with bright red running shoes and high rise blizzard colored socks takes the time to stare down the sentinel of darkness with a simple _tsk_ of his finger. She is exhausted after the fight, the world is restored, and Tabuu is eliminated from everyone's thoughts. No longer relevant, she deems.

Sonic tires himself out, having raced all along the stage for another fifteen good minutes, coming to a screeching halt. She's surprised there's no burnt out marks following his rapid run, leaving everything still as it had been before. He sits himself down next to Samus, hanging his legs over the edge of the stage. She mindfully scoots back some, not wanting to be responsible for his premature death.

The hedgehog wipes some of the sweat out of his eyes.

"You never gave me an answer."

"On what?"

"What do you think is actually happening to the mansion? To you?" Sonic turns to look at her.

Samus scoffs some. "I- it's been twenty-four hours. No one else but Will, Shulk, and I have seen anything out of the ordinary."

"You have to admit it must be odd."

"What?"

"Ghosts appearing and disappearing as if they were never there, armor being damaged and all of a sudden fixed..." Sonic pauses, rubbing his chin. "What are you going to do about the armor?"

"Will and Shulk took it to Snake today."

"Why him?"

"We believe he'd be the best person to tell us what went wrong with it, if anything," Samus explains.

"And?"

"He's baffled."

Sonic grits his teeth in a hiss, snapping his fingers. Something catches his eye as he looks down, and Samus notices. The hedgehog flips to where he's lying flat on his belly on one of the platforms, looking downwards at the lava. Her arms, despite the Brinstar stage being ensnared by a volcano's hug, suddenly shiver, goosebumps appearing on the skin. She joins him, lying flat against the stage as well.

"Do you see that?" Sonic asks, pointing.

"See what?" Samus questions, unable to see it.

All the bounty hunter sees is red, more red, and even more red on top of that; a continuous flow of lava that spins as if it's in a cyclone until it disperses out again. A few bubbles pop obnoxiously, or a sudden and loud splash from a cavern rock above that chips off and plummets into the scorching sea below. She doesn't see what Sonic is referring to, but she is not gifted with his special eyesight at being able to spot things from the road while running a million miles an hour.

"You see it?" he urges again, pointing further, almost so close as if he's about to fall off.

"No! I don't!" Samus exclaims childishly, wanting to cross her arms and pout had it not been an absolutely embarrassing experience for her. She looks away, perhaps to catch another detail on the wall when she sees it, almost like a tear or a paper cut against white skin. Down, deep into the swirl of the lava at a certain glance if her head is right just so, is a glob of shadow. Samus leans in to mirror the actions of her companion, her hand absentmindedly gripping his paw so they do not tip over together. The mass of lava swirls again and she sees a wider, larger frame of it.

The blob is almost like a tear in the sky, a black hole filled with amorphous purple jelly. Occasionally the flash will glow deep down in the lava, a peal of scorching red or stunning halcyon, but something is very clear. The blob is amaranthine in color, and she's unable to place where she's seen this darkness or shade before. Not on any planets that she's visited has she witnessed an oddity like this.

"Look at that!" Sonic cries out, pointing with his other arm.

Samus is glad she looked down as she catches the sight of an arm sticking out of the hole... and _in the lava!_ Her head turns to the side, as the hand reaching out is familiar as well, yet she cannot place it once more. The hand is azure in color, like fur if it didn't glisten so much. A glint of steel flashes and the hand disappears down under the lava again and through the purple void. What frustrates her the most is that the hand does not seem burnt, unharmed in every way possible with no singed hairs or cries of agony from the other side.

Both companions right themselves up, looking at each other warily.

"Was that an arm poking through lava?" she asks first, her voice slow as she enunciates every syllable. The question is completely preposterous, yet she is certain that what she saw _is_ what she saw.

Sonic nods nervously. "It'd appear, and then go back down, and then appear again. As if... as if-"

"As if it was testing it." Samus finishes for him.

"Like a portal?"

"And where would the other side be?"

"I don't know..." Sonic frowns, looking away.

Samus looks back over the edge of the platform, both having stood up. The shadow blob is gone, the purple 'portal' vanishing forever under the scarlet flow of the waves, and no hand breaks through like a rising sun on a new morning. "How did you know to look down there? It took me a few minutes to even see what you were talking about. How did you catch it so easily?"

"I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

Sonic rubs the back of his neck. "It's hard to explain. I stopped running because it looked like you needed someone to talk to instead of sitting there all quiet and looking for something. While you were talking, I heard a voice in my head."

"What did it say?"

The hedgehog looks at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "The depths are below. _Look down,"_ he shuffles his feet. "And so I did. There was that portal... and the arm poking through."

Samus closes her eyes, almost wanting to tip over. What were the words that Shulk had said to her when someone had entered his room? She wishes she could remember what the ghoul she thought she saw on the terrace that night had screamed at her, otherwise it'd make the whole situation a lot easier to work with.

She rubs her arms again, getting cold. "Let's leave. I think we found what we need. We'll come back tomorrow and observe it... something is up and I need to know exactly what it is."

Sonic nods complacently, moving past her. Samus gives one more look around the stage. Brinstar is supposed to represent her home, or at the very least a fraction of the world that she once grew up in to then come to Earth and be given a spot among the greats of their world. Now, as she stands still in the land of fire and gross pink flesh-like walls, all she feels is uneasiness, a queasiness that rises up in her stomach.

A sinking suspicion begins to build, but she's got nothing.

Just a suspicion.

* * *

 **There we are ladies and gents! That was Chapter #7: Suspicion. And Woohoo, the plot is afoot! Another side character has been introduced, and that is Mario! I once, a long time ago, tried writing him with an Italian accent but it made my work contrived and lack any sort of substance, so him speaking normally is the option I chose... and I decided to age him, as it is an AU after all and the rules can be slightly bent. But... questions, oh questions. Wanda feels like the middle child, despite being a twin, and since Will is troubled, there's contention between them. Where do you think Will and Wanda's relationship will go from here?**

 **Flash forward to Samus and Sonic, this has turned into one of my favorite stories ever purely because of the plot twists I'm bringing about. What do you think is below the Brinstar stage in the lava, given the colors and shape of what Sonic saw? Think hard about a Smash Bros franchise element that involves that type of color purple and what do you come up with? What about the hand that appears through the other side? Can you find the reference from an earlier chapter? If you can, amazing sleuthing! I'd be excited to see all of your predictions!**

 **The next chapter will probably come on November 4th, which is not this Saturday, but next. Please review and let me know what you thought of the chapter! It'd mean a lot to me! I hope to see you all again soon with Chapter #8: Destruction. Thank you all so much again for being awesome readers and reviewers. I love you all! Have an amazing day! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	8. Chapter 8: Destruction

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #8: Destruction. Man, it has been a long time since this story has seen the light of day and I really,** ** _really_** **apologize for that. However, I am super happy to announce that this story will be at eighteen chapters max, meaning we are nearing the 50% mark. A lot of this two month period concerning this story has been planning it, and originally we were at around 20-25 or so, and I think that it is a bit too much, so I've condensed a whole lot for each chapter, now, which makes me excited. There is a lot to underway now, so enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 _"So many bad things have happened to them that they can't trust the good things. They have to shove them away before someone can get it back." ~ Wally Lamb_

"Is there a reason you've dragged me out of bed? A match is about to happen and I'd like to see it."

That is the very first thing Mario says to Lucario after the vulpine Pokemon approaches the plumber's bedside. When he - Mario - looks up at the aura user, there's a fire inside Lucario's eyes that reveals itself brightly, burning spheres shining under the guise of shaded darkness. It gets Mario's attention, but still slightly leashed. Lucario's mind is a maze, where there are scientific experiments going on in the labyrinth, and it is not something people should jump into head first.

Lucario's eyes twinkle, a gleaming halcyon akin to the chandeliers in the great hall, and it is enough to have spiders scrawl all over Mario's skin. The two are in the library, with the thundering of footsteps above due to a scheduled match. It is displayed on a bulletin board with thumbtacked pictures of the fighters that are to be included. Thrown into the pot is Shulk the Monado Wielder, Princess Toadstool of the Mushroom Kingdom, Greninja the Water Ninja, and Samus the galactic bounty hunter. Mario wishes to see the match, but he is drawn by Lucario's alluring sense of curiosity, following him down the creaky stairs with dim lights, as if he's being lured into a dungeon.

It is enough to damper Mario's heart when all he gets is the brown, dusty oak surface of bookshelves and the cluttered chess table in the corner.

"This won't take long," Lucario promises, shifting over a few chairs to make room by the central bookcase.

Mario is an old man - well, _he_ thinks he's a withered old man - and he does not have time to be entertained by childish whims. He's confused as to why Lucario is acting so giddy, where Lucario is the epitome of a wise guru, a force full of mystery and power that wields the auras around all living things. Now Lucario is bouncing on the balls of his feet, keeping an entertained smile, and his interest is piqued.

"The last time you showed me something, Link nearly blew the roof on this place _and_ Master Hand tried coming for my head. He blamed me," Mario throws his hands up in the air, almost like an exasperated child. "I'm the one trying to keep the mansion alive!"

Lucario shrugs his shoulders, giving an all-telling smile. "Well, it is hard to properly control the youth of the world today."

"How is Lucina doing under your tutelage? She seems to be coming along quite nicely."

"She's not the worst student I've ever trained," Lucario admits.

"Seeing the way she glides while fighting... it almost makes me want to practice up with you again," Mario chuckles, shaking his head. "It'd be like old times, wouldn't it?"

"They would be..." the aura Pokemon admits, and the two lock eyes momentarily, before Lucario looks away, almost brokenly. Sadness reflects in his sapphire eyes, a cold, bone-drenching melancholy that sinks underneath Mario's skin.

 _Old times,_ a voice whispers on the wind. _Old times of bravery, a courage you no longer have._

Old times meant fighting in a foreign world, with friends ripped apart by the seams. Mario hears the sounds of death as he labors through a cave networking system, running after the princess he so eagerly desired. The cackle of Bowser's dying breaths when the tyrant tumbles off a cliff, and the rush of the wind as the world is torn apart by Subspace bombs. It is hard to describe, Mario has found out as he's gotten older, the very feeling of losing your essence when the amaranthine tide rushes to meet you, and the very fabric of the world is torn at the edges. An endless vacuum, a space where there's no life, no light, and an azure guardian watches over it all.

Lucario and Mario used to be brothers-in-arms, smashing the Subspace empire to its very knees when the azure devil takes flight, wings spanning miles that are made of stain-glass pictures that detail destruction, famine, war, pestilence, and then there's a flash of red. Mario goes numb, his body is taken into the air, and then there's an evocable silence that washes over his heart. He's stuck in a stasis where time does not move forward, but it does not move back and all that remains is the dull throb of a heartbeat still clinging onto dear life.

 _But life has been taken from you, old man. You cannot sleep, you do not dream. All you do is whittle away at opponents in a plastic tubed ring for glory that no one will remember you for. How does it feel to watch what you hold dear slowly slip through the cracks?_

Mario clears his throat, putting on a smile. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

In the lapse of sound that the two were involved in, Lucario's eyes shut and he reads the aura of the room. It is a sickening, saddening gray, as if there is a other worldly force eating away at the edges, little by little till nothing remained. Around it is light, bright reds and vicious oranges representing the upstairs portions of the mansion, yet in the library... he feels nothing but emptiness. Mario's question breaks him from the reverie, and the lupine shakes his head, returning the plumber's expression back to him.

"Right!" he remembers, nodding, and he goes over to the grand book shelf situated in the center of the library. Mario follows him tenaciously, peering over the Pokémon's shoulder out of caution. "Yesterday," Lucario begins, "Lucina had just said goodbye and I left myself in here to levitate some. The room is an interesting aura of gray, which I've never felt before. Out popped an anomaly, clear as day..." and his gaze lingers on the books.

"This bookshelf?" Mario prods. He does not know too much about the aura Pokemon and how the schematics of that whole system work, but there is enough knowledge to know that all Lucario has to do is feel... and anything and everything that the room is comes to him, whether for good or evil purposes that is still a mystery. "Something in the bookshelf?"

Lucario nods, continuing. "It's a wall of gray, and in the center... a ring of purple shadow, almost like crushed blackberries. It does not emanate anything malicious, but I've never seen anything like it. I went to the spot, and touched it. The bookshelf is ordinary, nothing is out of place... except I urged myself a little bit too far in..."

As he's saying this, Lucario gets closer and closer to the bookshelf, his snout pressed up against one of the book's spines. Mario straightens himself out, fearful something may happen to either his friend or the surrounding library, and he prefers it not be something flammable. There is too much dry paper for anything to be a remote blunder. Mario listens as Lucario finishes his tale, and then watches as the aura Pokemon turns his paw into a fist and pushes the fist into the bookshelf. Mario lets out a cry of surprise and shock, one gloved hand resting on Lucario's shoulder.

"It'll-" he begins.

"Don't worry," Lucario hushes him, removing the fist from the bookshelf.

Mario watches as a ring of amethyst appears in the shelf, and then fizzles out like bubbles evaporating off a topped soda, though there is no sound. He presses a hand up to the shelf and presses along the spots, yet nothing happens; all he does is feel the rough and hard spines of the books that he's read a million times. He looks at Lucario, a troubled expression in his eyes, and all the lupine does is bow his head, stepping away from the object.

"This- this cannot be real."

"I do not know what to make of it," the Pokemon admits, sitting down in one of the chairs, a paw underneath his chin. "Not much of the human world stumps me, but this does."

"Because it's not human."

"Exactly. Any ideas?"

Mario's blood runs cold. "A few, but I don't think you or anyone else is going to like them."

"I've heard many terrible scenarios of many events in my life. Yours are hardly going to be bothersome."

"It's about the color of the ring. Purple, right?"

Lucario nods. "It is indeed purple, and I believe it is to be a portal. Where does it lead to? That I do not know. Why does the color concern you?"

Mario does not even need to answer, the two simply lock eyes and it as if they are transported back into the world with lightning flashes in a cloudless sky, a see through ground with cracks of iodine and crushed gems running through it. A looming ship with a grappling claw, the red and sulfurous smoke that chokes out the sun, blots out the sky, and darkens the land. Enemies with cardinal eyes that peer out of the darkness, with abyss-like faces, rounded heads of olive green, and bright sunburst orange fists.

However, this idea may be the entertaining thought of a madman.

"Subspace..." Mario whispers, and even now it is as if he is breathing life back into an evil that the world shall never hope to see.

"You think so?"

"That color dominated all of its movements. Amaranthine shadows from the bombs, the world itself drowns in a purplish scheme... and we happen to be in Smash Mansion. You know Tabuu hated us as much as we hated them."

It is as if a trigger is snapped and the chandelier above them snaps off. Lucario looks up at it warningly, and then stands, advancing on the plumber. He grips him, and Lucario's touch is ice cold. It is a name that no one is allowed to utter inside the mansion's walls, for the Smashers that fought in the Emissary lost bits and pieces of them in that war; it seemed like a war of attrition with neither side winning, and neither side losing until one single fell stroke wipes them all out. Even though the threat has been eradicated for a decade, the haunting effects linger. There are shadows underneath Lucas's eyes, bruise marks on Zelda and Peach's skin that do not fade. The burns and lacerations lining Samus's back... nothing fades away completely forever, but it remains on the fringes, on the outskirts so it is not noticed, until they lash like a whip.

"Do not mention his name, Mario. Not here, and not even around me," Lucario warns. "I'm going to go out on the terrace and meditate. I do not trust this library anymore. Do you wish to join me?"

"I'm good. I might try and find a new book to read."

"Don't forget about the match," Lucario says warmly, patting him on the arm. With that, the aura Pokemon bows once more to the original Smasher of all Smashers, and he bounds up the stairs back to the mansion's upper floors.

Mario lets the warm feeling of Lucario's fur hum in the crook of his neck, shuddering when it leaves him. A quietness settles over the library, and he's never been this unnerved in his life. He looks around one last time at the library, seeing the knocked over books and the chess set standing still, and a cold chill climbs up Mario's arms. His gaze flits over to the bookshelf one last time, with the purple pruritus ring, and he swallows his fear.

He does not look back as he stomps up the library steps back into the light.

* * *

Whenever there is a scheduled match posted the night before, the morning after is filled with the hum of excitement, and loud chatter fills the air. The Smashers buzz around the mess hall for breakfast, laughing, giggling, conversing, eating, have what may until anticipation fills their bellies. Usually the Smashers involved in said match are not eating, having taken a banana or a light meal earlier, before horizon broke, to get in one last training session. That exact morning, while Lucario and Mario are down in the library discussing portals inside bookshelves, the rest of the group is surrounding the buffet lines, chattering away. The swordsmen gang - Link, Roy, Ike, Marth, Meta Knight, and Lucina - play with their kabob sticks in mock fights while the ladies - Peach, Zelda, Rosalina, and Palutena - watch in amusement, they laugh and chuckle and gasp at the fake bravado displayed before them.

Everyone seems to be in a good mood as one can hear the bubble of joy rising, rising ever so till it bursts against the ceiling. All but one is down in the gay times; Wanda Forrest sits against a far wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze criticizing and calculating. She's not malevolent with her stares, but searching, and she cannot find whom she is looking for. Her brother seems to be absent this morning, and the thought does not sit well within her stomach, a churn of betraying thoughts and sad tears; a whisper that is demonic on her shoulders. _Your brother is hiding something from you. You know it to be true. Confront him about it._

Whenever someone crosses over to her to speak, she flashes a warm smile, but leaves it at that, keeping her mouth shut. It isn't that she does not want to have good times with her friends, but that's rather focused at the moment; she's got no time for simple distractions. However, under Wanda's gaze, she sees all, she feels all, and she understands all.

She thinks about last night, the night with Mario in the hammocks, and it pangs her early in the morning that she's extremely jealous of her brother. He's supposed to be blood, and she very well cares for him, but a deep seed down in the pit of her stomach, she is jealous of Will. She's troubled how the two are to be connected by the heel - Wanda always forgets how their birthing night happened, whether or not she had come first or Will and how they had held each other - yet it seems he holds information from her.

Sunlight filters through the roof, turned over to glass panels from the original tin, and it spills into a halcyon pool in the center of the room. Wanda is amused to watch a fellow Smasher traipse through the pool, their body lit up like a jack-o-lantern. She appreciates the things in life like that, ones where it is a simple wonder that turns into awe and phenomenon impossible to explain.

Wanda stays back from the rest of the gang, and then her eyebrows lift up in happiness.

Will stumbles into the mess hall, his disposition at ease, his face relaxed, shoulders left down, and his hair brightly colored. Wanda wastes no time in rushing over to her brother, looping an arm through the gap of his right arm, leaning into him a little too excitedly.

"Good morning!" he exhales breathlessly, caught by surprise, his emerald eyes twinkling. "You're in a good mood," Will says decisively.

"Just happy to see my brother!" Wanda smiles, and her brother grimaces slightly, if only for a second. His eyes search her face for any slip-up, any betrayal of true intention. It is quite awkward for the male athlete, only because his sister is never one to be jumping up and down in excitement to see him.

"You excited for the match?"

"Are you?" Wanda asks, lowering her gaze down somewhat, passing over his appearance. She finds nothing out of the ordinary, as Will is the book definition of a repetitious routine. She's found him working out at midnight on the treadmill in his room, before plopping on the couch to watch some TV, before passing out still dressed in his crumpled up hoodie. His mahogany hair is a messy bundle of a squirrels nest, eyes open and bright, but still showing the remnants of his exhaustion by the dark bags underneath them. The drawstrings of his hoodie are twisted and crumbled up together. She takes the opportune of righting his jacket.

"What are you doing?" he asks annoyed, swatting her hands away.

"You look like a wreck."

"I just woke up."

"My point."

Will stares at her blankly, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Are- are you okay? You're acting weird."

"Weird how?" Wanda says irritably, her right eye twitching as she licks her hand to start matting down his hair.

"Too motherly..." Will squirms, twisting away from her, "It's unlike you. The Wanda I know would insult me for looking nasty, punch me in the shoulder, _and_ kick me in the balls for good measure."

She drags him over to the breakfast buffet, the siblings still locked arm and arm as if she's never going to let go of him. "Let's just say my circumstances changed," Wanda smiles sweetly, reaching over Will to grab a plate. She flings open the carrier for the scrambled eggs, piling them high on her plate like a mountain. She takes a biscuit, holding it in her mouth as she seizes an apple.

Will looks with a bit of sluggishness at her, eyes narrowing. "We shouldn't eat biscuits..."

"We can splurge ever so often. What can it do to hurt us?"

"A lot of things," he replies.

He takes an apple as well, biting into it. The sweetness bursts in his mouth like tantalizing fireworks, juice dripping down his chin. He files a bit of the skin from his teeth, sitting across from his sister as she begins to scarf down the eggs. Will peers at his sister, tilting his head to the side as he continues to bite away at the apple. Wanda doesn't look up from her plate as she butters down one side of the biscuit, then pauses, twirling the knife between her fingers.

"What?" she asks annoyed.

"What is the matter with you?"

"And why are you staring at me?"

"Are you okay?" Will reaches for her and grabs her hand, holding it tight. "Normally you'd be hitting me and chastising me, but you seem off. Like something's bothering you."

"And what would be bothering me?" she takes a bite of the biscuit, setting it down on the plate, holding the knife in her hand. "I'm always fine."

"That's a lie, and you know it," Will scoffs, taking the butter knife from her hand and setting it down on the table away from her reach. She protests, weakly however, to which he puts a hand up to silence her. "You're using the knife as a distraction so you don't answer my questions," again Wanda goes to protest or say some smart lie, but he knows her better than she thinks. "Uh-uh, don't try and talk yourself out of this one. What's the matter?"

Wanda locks her jaw and clucks her tongue, looking away for a brief moment. "I'd rather be asking _you_ that question."

"And why's that?"

"You're the one who's on edge. Ever since yesterday after Samus's match. You've seemed... tense."

"Tense?" he scoffs again. "How am I acting tense? I'm acting as I normally do."

Wanda reaches for his hand again, squeezing it with a passion that causes him to lock eyes with her. Emerald eyes clash with other emerald eyes, and he swallows, sensing the pain surging through their touch, pressing like a fiery braille into his skin, like Morse code. A cry for help. A plea, but for what? Will does not know, and he's afraid to find out.

"What are you hiding from me?"

The flip-flop of this mock Spanish Inquisition causes Will to furrow his eyebrows together. He looks around the lunch hall doggedly, as if he's afraid someone will come up to him and start asking all the wrong questions. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he answers back.

"Try me." She presses down harder, ever so hard to where it causes Will a tiny bit of pain. He gives her a stare, a stare of fright and horror, which breaks Wanda's concentration and she sits back, putting her hands at her side. Will knows she's always been one of those 'helicopter moms' since their own parents were unfortunately not around to support them, but he sees the crazy glint in her eye, as if the years have abused her and held her hostage.

Wanda knows she's coming on too strong, she probably looks insane to her normal brother's eyes. It causes her to laugh, inside her head, at the thought. Her brother? Normal? The guy cuts his pizza - well, the seldom slice they've ever eaten since taking up a life full of athleticism and passionate exercising - with a knife and fork; something must be up. But since her brother does not have a mother, _and_ they're twins, why wouldn't this be the opportune moment?

"You'd think I'm joking," Will whispers, looking away.

"I'm your twin sister. You can share anything with me. _Anything._ "

Will closes his eyes, looks straight into his sister's eyes, and a tear falls down his face. "No, Wanda, I can't." He picks up the apple, tossing it into a faraway garbage can, before standing up from the table and walking away. Wanda's hand falls from his grasp, and she stares after her brother.

"Will!" she calls. "Will!" Her cry goes unanswered. "William!"

The other Smashers look at her, a few glances slightly half-crazed, others with worry etched on their faces. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, sitting back down. She looks down at the table numbly, shaking her leg as she tapped on the table. Her mind searches for a possible answer. It's clearly not depression or thoughts of suicide, which had been her very first initial instinct when asked by Mario last night, swinging in the hammocks.

It deals with Samus. It has to.

Wanda looks up, and the blonde bounty hunter is nowhere to be seen. Getting ready for her match, no doubt. Perhaps Will is going to watch her, and she'll just have to corner both of them again. Part of her is hurt that her brother, _her twin - we shared a womb together, Will, I am the closest and best friend you've got and that you're ever going to have! Trust in me -_ won't even vocalize a possible trouble.

She bites on the bottom of her lip, blood filling the basin of her mouth.

After another chomp out of the apple, she throws the eggs and biscuit into the garbage.

Samus Aran has some explaining to do, whether she likes it or not.

Wanda Forrest is not letting that girl take her brother away.

* * *

"I am so going to kick your butt, Aran! You won't even know what hit you!" shouts Shulk excitedly, the blonde swordsman dancing around the bounty hunter like a toddler hyped up on sugar. She merely chuckles, crossing her arms, decked out in her suit of armor. She stops by Snake's on the way to breakfast to retrieve the suit, and the ex-spy lowers his spectacles at her. Snake doesn't actually need glasses, only when he's examining weaponry does he ever put them on, and says that the kid must have taken some high level drugs before finding her and Will in the stadium, as there's nothing wrong with the Power Suit, not in the slightest.

 _And if there is,_ Samus asks him, worriedly.

Snake lets out a sigh. _Then hopefully any damage done to you or the other fighters happens in the arena, and not out of it._ That totally assures her.

Now she's suffering at the hands of Shulk, waiting for the battle to start. It's another free-for-all, this time between her, Shulk, Lucina, and the winner of the last match, Greninja. She's happy, at the very least, to be combating skilled warriors, novice warriors, and a hyperactive child who doesn't seem to understand the vernacular definition of sit down and shut up.

She lets out a tiny smile. "Oh are you?" Samus challenges. "Have you ever been hit by a missile that comes from here?" she gesticulates down to the arm cannon. "It isn't a pleasant feeling, I'll say. Six percent damage is nothing to scoff at when you're in the upper range, and if I need to use a Plasma Blast to rack up the damage, then you might as well end it. Besides, you have the other enemies in the arena to face as well."

"I'm not letting you off the hook _that_ easily," smirks the girl beside her, and Shulk stops his constant flipping around to give a glare at Lucina. The bluenette shrugs her shoulders, picking her teeth with a toothpick, borrowed from the clinic. Falchion is strapped to her side, and the blade glistens underneath the warm sun. The three of them are stuck outside in the glass domed arena, waiting for Greninja to arrive; translation from R.O.B - anytime Samus sees the robot, she shudders - that the frog requires an hour and a half of meditation every morning before being prepped for a battle. To that, Lucina calls bull crap and demands a one-on-one match with the Pokemon, daring to disrespect the princess of Ylisse the way he is.

"You always have to ruin everything, don't you?" Shulk complains.

"If you were a better fighter, I wouldn't be saying that."

"Hey, don't underestimate me!"

Lucina removes the toothpick from her mouth, hanging her jaw open with a laugh. "Do you not remember our conversation on the terrace yesterday?"

Shulk's face turns a bright red, and Samus raises an eyebrow. A new development in the market, perhaps? It's been years since she's tried love. Well, actually, only a few months, and it is Captain Falcon that's her date, but that doesn't count nor it doesn't matter. What Will Forrest does not know does not hurt her. The Monado wielder flips off one of the stands but misdirects his landing, slamming right into Lucina. She pushes off of him with a cry of indignation, and he stumbles away, scowling.

"I'm just trying to be funny!" he calls at her, sulking off. He'll find something better to do with his time, waiting for Greninja to 'meditate'.

"More like being reckless!" Lucina shouts back, and then when he's out of earshot, she crosses her arms. "Boys," she mutters.

Samus quips another grin, this time full of teeth. "However, this particular boy you like?"

"What? No. No way..."

"Whatever you say..." Samus says in a sing-songy voice, resting her elbows on one of the metal rungs.

"Okay... just a little..." Lucina whispers softly. "But you can't tell him!"

The blonde lets out a chuckle, tossing her head back. Her helmet sits on the bench next to her. "I was your age once, young and pretty."

"But you're still young and you're still pretty." Lucina blinks, not quite understanding that this conversation is meant for advice and not funny little jokes.

"To be younger than eighteen again. Stuck in all those phases. Then you become an adult and realize that love is for suckers. Are you a sucker?"

"No!" Lucina answers a little too loudly, and then composing herself like the regal lady that she is, backs down some. "I mean, no, I'm not a sucker," she looks longingly down the way Shulk had wandered off to, and a tinge of color returns to her cheeks. "But Shulk's so nice. And gullible. And naïve. And nice. And... and cute..."

"And how long have you known him? How many full and complete sentences have you spoken to each other in the four or five years you've been her?"

"I can like people from afar!"

"Oh can you?"

Samus remembers when her eyes land on Link, the famed hero of Hyrule, his gorgeous diamond eyes of reflective glass, a smile that even tugs at her battle hardened heart strings, a voice that is ethereal and something to die for, and a musical talent unrivaled by any of the other ten Smashers collected in the mansion. She's never had a time for romance, being an intergalactic warrior and all, but now having the time to settle down and take things slow, she often wishes to change her predicament every once in awhile.

Then the Melee era comes, and Master Hand finds it to be the best idea in having Zelda, the infamous, _infamous_ Zelda of Hyrule come alongside her hero. Her heart sinks into the Earth, and she sulks constantly on the Brinstar stages until Captain Falcon, Fox, Falco, and Mario coax her out of a depression. It's not even that Samus Aran is depressed by the fact this Zelda girl exists, or that Link does not have an interest in her, but that this man, this guy she's focused her time on, actually cares for someone. Jealousy? Samus isn't still quite sure to this day, but she decides that it all must be work, work, work. All work and no play makes Samus a dull girl; she loves the Shining and can never resist making a reference, but it keeps her fit, keeps her focused, and it keeps her on top of the leaderboard scores. No matter how many fighters come and go, Samus Aran sits at the top five with a laurel crown resting on her head in a photo shoot picture.

Into the frame comes Will Forrest, and Samus decides to stop the thought flow then and there. Out of her stupor, does Samus notice Lucina observing the Power Suit, lips pursed, eyes narrow, and a feeling of excitement buzzing about her.

"What?"

Lucina blushes, settling back into her skin, a hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Nothing. I was just noticing your suit. Marth, Robin, Corrin, Ike, Roy, and I aren't from a place of technology."

"Nor am I from a place surrounded by castles."

"How does it all work? The suit."

"It's complicated," Samus responds. "I don't want to get into the semantics of it all; it'd bore you to death. I don't even know, quite honestly. I simply point the arm cannon at what I want to destroy or maim, and I pray to God that something damaging comes out of the arm cannon. I imagine getting punched in the face by a slab of metal wouldn't be quite enjoyable either, though."

"How did you get so good at it? Fighting?"

"Please, you flatter me," Samus smiles.

"I mean it," Lucina leans it, eyes twinkling. "You've been doing it for nearly twenty years! I want to know your secret!"

"It's all about dedication. Dedication keeps me going. Not having a love interest always makes me have free time to train or sleep or do something that isn't needless," and at Lucina's fallen expression, she hastens to lessen the damage. "Not that there's anything wrong with following your heart! It's just that mine hasn't searched for someone in a long time..." her gaze falls to the concrete.

"Liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You're lying," Lucina says. "I grew up with nobility, and Marth, who's even better at being courteous than I am. If someone is lying, I know. You always look to your left, directly at something interesting on the ground. That's how I know you're lying."

Samus gives the bluenette a side-eye, and the girl chuckles. Something catches the bounty hunter's eye, causing her to look up. Her skin inside the Power Suit goes cold. Though sometimes her eyes play tricks on her, Samus swears she saw an amaranthine blob, perhaps a shadow, sitting on one of the glass panes that is the roof, sparks shooting from one of the cracks.

"Samus!" a voice shouts from down the corridor, and her ears pick up that it's Shulk calling for her, something about Greninja being ready.

Her attention is fixated on the roof, however. "Hey, Lucina, did you happen to see?"

Then, the world slows, like an insect in amber. Shulk runs forward from his side of the stadium, and behind him, Samus catches eye of a familiar head of brown hair, but it isn't Will. It's Wanda, with her hands balled into fists by her side, an expression that seems quite cross plastered across her face. A terrible screeching noise comes from above, and she looks just in time to see the glass panel that had brought her anxiety give way, a shower of sparks following its descent. Shulk is too caught up in running towards them that he does not see the pane fall.

She shouts his name to get his attention. Lucina jumps up as well, hand on Falchion, whipping out the steel. It glints off in the sunlight, and in it's reflection, Samus catches the glimpse of the purple shadow seen earlier. Suddenly, Samus's body begins to vibrate, but it's not her that's vibrating. It's the suit! Heat begins to pool inside, and she realizes that a missile is firing up, a command she did not give it.

Thinking fast, Samus stands up as well. Shulk now notices the glass roof panel soaring towards him, and Lucina is running faster than she's ever gone before. Samus places her feet firmly, locking her arm cannon on the pane. The missile will shatter the glass, keeping everyone safe from harm. Wanda had stopped in her tracks, calling for help, when all of a sudden, Samus's arm begins to resist her.

She tries fighting it, but the arm cannon rights at a 180 degree angle, in line with Shulk. Samus lets out a warning, but it's too late. The missile rips free, blowing the bounty hunter off of her feet. She watches in dismay as the window falls down, _down, down._ Lucina collides into Shulk, and the two skirt away, as the window hits the concrete.

It shatters into pieces, bits of reflective glass flying everywhere. The sound of Samus's missile streaking through the sky breaks the sound barrier. Before it can reach Lucina or Shulk, it combusts in on itself, puttering out in a cough of smoke, sulfur, ash, and cyber bits. Silence hangs over the stadium, and Samus's breath returns to calm.

Lucina lets out a scream, and Samus sees why.

Shulk holds a hand to his stomach, and when he removes his fingers, they come back a nasty, glistening copper in the sun. He looks at Samus, and she realizes that it is the missile bursting into bits that has injured him, shrapnel and all, but the action happens against her will.

The Monado wielder lets out one last croak, hand outstretched, fingers pointing at her, _her,_ Samus Aran, and the feeling is accusatory.

Shulk makes another step, before falling to his knees, then face down onto the concrete.

* * *

 **And there we have it ladies and gents! That was Chapter #8: Destruction, of Brinstar Depths! Man, I'm so sorry about the ridiculous wait for this chapter, but I'm glad I have it out now. A woo boy did a lot happen! I think I write 'slow motion' scenes quite well, as there's one in Syrenet that is quite good for my difficult standards - if you haven't read Syrenet, I suggest you do, as I feel it is my best work! - and obviously they're quite tense.**

 ** **What do you think is up with the portal and does it have any connections with this entire scheme afoot? Why is Will being so secretive with Wanda, and do you think she's blowing this out of proportion? And lastly, what happened with Samus's arm cannon? Is it corrupted, malfunctioning, possessed... I'd be very interested in hearing your thoughts.****

 ** **There are ten more chapters left, so the next one is at the halfway mark, and now we're hitting full stride. The month of February is about to get quite crazy with theater rehearsals for shows and numerous performances, but I'll try to have two updates next month after having such a long hiatus from this story. Please review and let me know what you thought, I'd love to hear from you guys! Also, if you haven't please go give Syrenet a chance, as I think it is terribly underrated, given I am putting my heart and soul into that work. I hope to have Chapter #9: Consternation, out no later than February 10th, so I'll be working on it slowly along.****

 ** **I love you all so much! Have an amazing day! Thanks for being amazing readers! Bye!****

 ** **~ Paradigm****


	9. Chapter 9: Consternation

**Hello again everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #9: Consternation. This is our affirmed halfway point through the story and my oh my a mystery it has so far been that I am purely buzzing about in excitement for, oh indeed! Last chapter was more of a long one where Mario and Lucario discussed the portal, Wanda thinks Will is pulling one on her and is now, due to her craziness, alienating herself from the man she can travel most, and Samus accidentally injured Shulk where her suit fired a missile when it wasn't meant to where it had been used to try and shatter a panel of glass about to hit Shulk. I am really excited for this latter half of the project, as I believe many will be too. Enjoy Chapter #9: Consternation.**

* * *

 _"The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think." ~ Horace Walpole_

The trio of Samus, Will, and Wanda sit together outside the door to the hospital wing, sometimes checking phones or the sketches on the wall to try and alleviate the feeling of pain that is festering on the other side of the locked door. Samus is sitting by herself on the bench opposite the door, nibbling away at the cuticle on her thumb, bit down so low that the pain is starting to _feel_ like pain instead of miniscule tears. The brunette twins stay side-by-side, but neither is talking given their spat earlier that morning at breakfast, but Samus is so caught up in her own head that she does not notice.

A concussion, Dr. Mario calls it, perhaps the onset of a coma. Samus is unable to comprehend his words as the Italian doctor shuffles his hands in and out of his lab jacket, shrugging his shoulders and frowning. It is rumored that Shulk is to wake in a few days, this coma being light - as if she's ever heard of a 'light' coma before - and that in a two day time he'll wake up and everything will be alright with the world again.

It all happens so fast, yet so slow at the same time, where she runs over everything again, looking it at from different angles and different lenses. Some anomaly. Some mix-up. Something, _anything_ to prove Samus' point that she's not going insane with herself. Amaranthine shadows lurking around the walls and on the roofs, monitoring above with doomed stares and glares that reek of maliciousness.

It is targeting her and Shulk specifically, but why, why, why is the question. Then the matter of the suit, again found by Shulk, again found in the possession of this violet specter, though she is incapable of connection dots together should any linking bridges exist. Samus has to hold her breakfast in looking at all the scars covering Shulk's arms and legs, burn marks that are horrendous, black flesh foul and scorched over. He resembles a controlled burn, yet his hair remains, his eyes are glassy pools of diamond, and underneath, an Underworld tainted by disgust and revolt.

Samus is stripped of her armor on Master Hand's orders, which she obliges lest she become some modernistic Marie Antoinette; she hasn't learned too much of Earth's world history, but that from the youngsters she's heard of French culture and French revolutions. A dance of blood, a dance where puppets are on strings, and somehow she's the puppet in all of this, with a master above invisible to her eye.

The match is cancelled, and it is surprising to Samus that nothing is put in place to fill the void, almost as if it is a sentence of mortem passed over the mansion. A moment of silence for Shulk's terrible state; Lucina huffs a tuff of navy hair out of her eyes, complaining, but not mad, and it builds even more pain in the bounty hunter's heart. The swordswoman is distraught, heavily evident by the sounds of a choked sob that comes from her throat when Shulk collapses to the concrete, but cannot bring herself to be anything but distant, leaving the moment the group of Samus, Wanda, Lucina, Will, and Mario bring the Monado wielder into the medical wing.

Samus watches Wanda starting to stare at her. They all know that Shulk isn't to wake up for a few more days yet none of them can bring themselves to move a muscle and get up, it is going to be a bad omen, that is easily proved. The blonde doesn't know where this sudden burst of hostility has come from, as the exercise guru has been her friend ever since she's arrived at the mansion, but now it is solid stares across a two foot hallway, eyes narrowed, eyebrows sinister, and Samus has the mental patience of a gnat before she'll open her mouth, snap, and ruin everything.

Will is moving his leg up and down, a constant _thump-bump_ rhythm of booted heel against the tile, and the sound drives Samus crazy, a _chink-chink-chink_ of R.O.B machinery, falsified copies of herself, an electric rodent, and halcyon eyes belonging to a winged beast.

"You mind not doing that?" Samus lets out a shaky, exasperated breath at the end of her sentence, hitting her head back up against the wall.

He tilts his head at her. "What?"

"The shaking of your leg," she elaborates. "It's... it's annoying me."

"Oh." Will ceases the action, like the dutiful man that he is.

Wanda scoffs, scowling. "Yes, listen to the princess, you'll always listen to her."

That reels both Samus and Will's attention up to stare at the female Forrestor sibling, who clucks her tongue in disgust before standing up off the bench. With a dismissive wave of her ponytail hitting the back of her neck, Wanda walks off without another word; cold, broken, blunt, and Samus can only add another mystery to the filing cabinet that's been building. Will purses his lips, locking his gaze onto Samus as Wanda's footsteps die into a quiet echo against the plastered walls.

A stasis of silence, enough to make Samus's skin crawl.

"What have I suddenly done to her to get me so mad?" Samus looks away, to stare at the tile pattern of criss-crossed reds and greens and suddenly purple, shadow blots cover everything like a tidal wave, and in the center: a lock of blonde hair. Her heart wells up in her throat.

"Beats me," Will frowns. "I mean, it seems you ladies are easily irritable."

"Seeing her before... before..." Samus is unable to bring herself to finish the sentence, because if she does, it'll have the shattering noise reverberate around her head like a gong that drowns out all other noise. Glass shards, more lemonade colored hair, copper, scarlet, so much scarlet, diamond eyes; youth and beauty hidden by aghast sheets. "She had rounded the stadium corner, shouting my name; I swear she looked like she was going to kill me, Will."

"I'll talk to her about it some time," he locks his jaw. "She got irritated at me this morning at breakfast too. Wanda proves to be an easily tripped wire."

She nods, though the action does nothing more than move the conversation to an already quiet standstill. Samus goes back to wondering about the shadow, it's shape. An amorphous blob, easy enough to configure. Shulk's statements about the apparition in a similar figure to her own body is unnerving, but that might be due to the fact there could be an evil doppelganger lurking about.

"My suit acted on its own," Samus says after a breath, a shaky breath like smokers and drug addicts and those cooped up on nervousness. "I aimed at the window, the missile was going to fire at the _pane,_ not Shulk, and it moved anyways and I just don't know what happened... I-" her voice hitches, and by this point Samus has risen her voice to be that of a panicked shout, but she's unable to understand what is bothering her so.

"Hey, hey, listen, it's okay..." Will comforts her, extending a hand out to rest on her knee. "No one's blaming you for anything, Samus. Nothing, and I mean it. If they did, they'd be idiots," he adds emphasis on the insult, and it causes Samus to look up at him, sapphire eyes locked with emerald ones, a precious gemstone mine where empathy is shared on a personal level. "We'll just have to be ten times more careful and alert of our surroundings now."

Her nose is running, and the quick outburst of unrequited emotion passes. Samus wipes at it with the sleeve of her running jacket, having changed out of the Power Suit. Master Hand forbids her to participate in another brawl until the whole mess could be sorted out, and though Samus loves a good fight that gets the blood flowing and the adrenaline coursing, she sees it as a good sign. Train, and training allows her to get in shape against all the phonies who can't even lift a dumbbell without crying. She entertains, in her head, the idea of becoming a fist-fighter like Mac and using hand-to-hand combat as a style, but there's nothing else in the Mansion that can be made in such a short period of time to have that happen where she can get a piece of equipment similar to Mac's boxing gloves.

Samus squeezes her eyes shut, warding off the bright light of the hallway's fluorescents. "Do you think it has to deal with Brinstar?"

"The depths thing?" Will asks, his answer a solemn nod. He rubs a hand on his chin, biting on his lower lip. The machinations play, the gears turn, and all that pours out is black smoke, sulfurous, industrial, destructive. "I mean, it's a stretch. They've not only been interacting with you and Shulk, but it's now become hostile. That's never a good sign."

"How do capture a shadow?"

"I'm sure Mario or Luigi could give us insight."

"I don't think any of their fangled machines could help with that, Will," Samus makes a cross face because Will's mouth quips up in a smile. "I'm serious here! There's no way that Shulk and I's encounters with this purple beast," she spits the word out with venom and soulful vengeance. "he seeing the monster on the terrace, the falling of the glass pane, _and_ the separate mind of my armor are not interconnected."

"And how could we possibly try and make something out of this? We got Sonic to help us, but Master Hand?" Will leans back against the bench. "That's a stretch, even for someone like you where he's known you for near twenty years."

Samus opens her mouth to reply when her eye catches another blur of motion - her pulse quickens, her eyes dilate, and her eyes search wildly - for it to narrow in on Lucina walking down the hallway, looking rather content with herself. Whatever sentence the bounty hunter has for Will dies in her throat when Lucina reaches the pair, a hand resting on Falchion, gaze triumphant.

"Samus, Lucario would like to meet you on the terrace," she says briskly, not even uttering a hello.

"We- we were just talking," Will tuts with his tongue. "This can't possibly wait."

"Whenever Lucario summons you, you go to him," Lucina flashes the brunette a glare. "It'd be unwise to ever refuse him lest you want to make brawling against him a living hell. Samus?"

Then, with a turn that looks like it didn't even happen, the bluenette troops her way back down how she came, leaving Samus dumbfounded at the invitation and its immediate execution.

She gives one last look at Will, who merely shrugs. It seems as if Lucario's importantly deemed meeting must be her new priority.

Samus needs it, as the tears dry on her face. Perhaps if a shadow couldn't be battled physically, it'd be battled mentally.

* * *

Lucario loves the peace and quiet; he stands on the terrace, furred arms brushing up against the coarse stone. The sounds of the ocean spill out into the vast, azure sky, and he can taste the saltiness of the water on his tongue, the morsels of sweet summers and bright days laughing and playing. Behind the saltiness is motion, a colorful plethora of aquatic bodies swimming back and forth, and the Aura Pokemon can see it all. His eyes are closed, absorbing the aura feel from every living organism around. Spiked ones resemble pain and suffering, smoother ones that have been brushed over with manicured hands are the evocation of serenity. There are mountain ranges and valleys in between, a scale, and Lucario understands every nuance.

Something is beginning to settle over the mansion, he's starting to feel it, but it is another one of the complications where it cannot be seen. Perhaps underground, but Lucario has never dealt with a matter in that category. How the clouds are ever a shade of gray darker, where the sea is colder than usual without the moving in of a cold front, and it is a pot on the brink of boil, a thunderstorm on the cusp of unleashing a hellfire, unrelenting downpour of brimstone. At its depths is Samus, swimming, blind, unable to see where she's going, and every step behind her is some portal, a key, and Lucario pictures it as clear as the terrace ring in front of his face.

He tilts his head up, hearing the soft sounds of hurried feet behind him, and then the indention of another couple bodies on the carpet.

"Late," he says, lowering his arms from the terrace. "It is rude of you to be late."

"What-" stutters Samus nervously, but her words are cut off as the lupine reaches down by his right foot, chucking a wooden sword at her. She is slow to react, the hilt of the wooden weapon bopping her on the nose, and Samus testifies there's a resounding crunch following the injury. "Ow! What the..." her words taper off, looking down at the sword with a withdrawn curiosity.

Lucario turns to face her, and standing behind Samus is Lucina, one hand still resting on Falchion, almost threateningly. Samus makes a face, eyebrows bunched together, trying to draw some sort of cohesive conclusion if there's one to be had, but she's unable at determining what it is. She picks up the sword, and when she does, Lucario reveals his own wooden piece of weaponry to her, having kept it clenched by his left hand against the terrace.

"Tomorrow, when I ask you to be here, Lucina won't have to fetch you," he instructs.

"I had no idea you even wanted me... I can't read minds!" Samus protests.

"No, not that, what do you say?" Lucario raises an eyebrow.

"I will be here when you want me here," she complies, nodding her head.

It is sincere, it is genuine. Lucario can tell by the aura rounding out more, becoming a lighter shade of blue, near sea green almost. He flips the sword around so the hilt is pressing up against his paw, the tip against the grooves of the terrace. "Master Hand let me know that your suit has been confiscated, and it'll be awhile until you get it back. Master Hand knows of Lucina's training I have with her near about every day, where I am her teacher in the art of swordplay," Lucario makes a gesture with the blade, kicking it up with his feet so he catches it in his left paw, Samus's wide eyes following every movement. "Since the story has been passed about possessed suits of armor, _and_ the boys' egos, they refuse to train you."

"You mean-" Samus begins.

"Yes," Lucina counts on her fingers. "Marth, Link, Ike, Roy, both Robins, both Corrins, Meta Knight, and anyone else I'm forgetting are all terrified that you'll destroy them and they backed down. It seems entirely childish, I know."

"Shulk would, but he's the reason we're in this mess," Lucario frowns, and he catches onto Samus's falling of her face where the eyes darkened, the brow imperceptibly burrowed together, and the crease lines formed around the curvature of her mouth. "Ah, watch that," he points out. "What happened to Shulk is unfortunate, no one can foresee it; had Mewtwo been here, perhaps, but it is nothing you should have weigh on your mind. It is negative for swordplay."

Samus swallows, lifting her head up. "Gotcha, sorry."

"What do you think swordplay is?" he asks, leaning on the blade. Samus shrugs, this has never been her exact optimal field of training; she's been in an intergalactic world of pain, darkness, stars, missiles, bombs, and winged dragon beasts that haunt her nightmares. A world of singing steel is foreign, a wine she's never tasted, a kiss she's never experienced, a pain she's never felt. "Moves and countermoves," Lucario finishes the question for her.

He picks the sword up, spinning around Samus so he's now side by side against Lucina, who had unsheathed her blade. It turns out not to be Falchion, but a smaller rapier that is thin in length, catching Lucario's strike deftly which is near the nape of her neck. He bounds back away from her, letting Lucina's wild gaze light aflame, decadent and burning, charcoal retribution, and when lessons must be proven to be mastered teachings. She gets the first dash, slicing downwards at Lucario's feet, a slice so fast it cuts the air with a whistle. The rapier is not meant to hurt, but if nicked, Lucario expects to have wind become a mortal enemy. He bounces an inch away, an easily countered move - Lucina is better than this, she's playing games, she's always playing games - to then swing the wooden sword back at the side of Lucina's head.

The swordswoman expects that to be his strike, given away in the eyes - there's always a trick, a trick found when you place a sword in a man's hand, the emotion tells all, gives it all away - and she leans her head back so the wooden blade passes over, an inch or so away from hitting her nose. A wicked grin placates itself on Lucina's face, and she spins on one knee, flashing the rapier out to try and strike the vulpine in the leg. Her reach is ousted a bit too far, and the rapier goes flying out of her grasp, light, sweaty fingers that glance off of smooth metal and her heart sinks. Lucario lowers the weapon down against the base of her neck, causing the bluenette to freeze, hurriedly having scrambled on her hands and knees to grab the skinny blade. Samus watches in a precious silence, the air filling with Lucario and Lucina's heavy breaths. When Lucario eases up the pressure, he picks up the rapier for her, allowing the bluenette to stand. He hands the blade back to her, which she promptly sheathes.

"It fell out of your hand because you were nervous," Lucario comments.

"So you'd rather have me be confident."

"I'd rather you be confident in _everything_ you did," he corrects. "There's confidence, and then there's arrogance. You know you drift into the arrogant side of things too, don't deny it," Lucario lifts his head up somewhat to garner his pupil in a more bright light. "How'd you know I was going for the neck swipe. Usually you never see it coming."

"The eyes," Lucina smirks. "It's always in the eyes."

"And you're only saying that because I told you so," Lucario returns the smirk tenfold. "It's not wise just to rehearse your teacher's sayings. Regurgitation helps with textbooks. I'm not a textbook."

Samus is still standing there, speechless, so she doesn't see when Lucario tosses once more the sword at her, which again hits her in the face, this time the hilt slamming into her forehead. Lucario clucks his tongue dismissively, leaning back onto the terrace, stone digging into his shoulder blades, grooved, polished, fine. The blonde rubs her skin, groaning, making a grimace. Lucina returns to her usual position, standing on Mansion carpet.

"So... I'm to now become your protégé?" Samus asks.

"If you'd like to use that word, sure," Lucario smiles wryly, though the action is not meant to be malicious in any sort of way. He's noticed this about people, about denizens other than Pokemon of any of the other worlds he's heard about or seen. The humanistic race is always quick to jump to conclusions, to use words and phrases that are not in the vernacular he'd choose, where minds aren't developed; even the developed ones pale in the comparison to Mewtwo, Uxie, or Mesprit. "My protégé you'll become."

"So... sword fighting?"

"We could use beam swords," the vulpine elaborates. "but Master Hand does not find that course to be... as effective as another weapon. R.O.B could engineer something similar to that rapier," he notices Samus's expression darken once more - the facial expressions always give it away - at the mentioning of the robot's name. Lucario's feelings of abhorrence and anger at the beings of Subspace - he doesn't dare utter the word aloud anymore, at Mario's behest - where the robots were a part of that scheme, but it is in the past, and the past only turns into ever lasting regret should he hold onto it. It is now a frozen block of ice locked away somewhere in a safe, an emotion that he has moved on from. "as the beam sword is an item, not a true weapon, it doesn't classify in the same category as the Master Sword or Falchion or Ragnell or any of the Fire Emblem blades."

Samus garners the information, biting down on her tongue so the taste of copper can fill the basin of her mouth. "Sounds good to me."

"Good," Lucario nods. "Make sure to try and catch the sword next time I toss it to you. I expect that you'll be covered in bruises by the time your training is over," he turns his back to the ladies, feeling the warmth of sunlight spread over his fur. "That was all I wished to show you, Samus. Lucina, go and enjoy the afternoon. I'm told Shulk may wake out of that coma..."

His words are effective, as Lucina scampers off without another word, and since one gal is fleeing, the other might as well and Samus' footfall fills the silence. Lucario is left alone on the terrace, the wooden sword clattered onto the stone by his feet, and his mind dances. A tango, a flamenco with braziers of fire around the ring, the brass of a tambourine, and Lucario's eyes open up in a flash.

With the discovery of the portal, only just last night, he swears there are voices in the background. Though he is unsure of where the portal leads to, he can hear in the void from the other beyond, wherever the magical door opens up at - are two voices, and now that he thinks of it harder, it sounds like Samus. Tone. Inflection. Everything.

He looks back at the spot Samus leaves vacant with her departure, thoughts at work. This storm that is brewing, it involves Samus and it involves Shulk, that is picture clear. There has been this talk of purple monsters lurking the hallways, gossip and rumors, but Lucario feels in his heart that it may be something more. A portal that matches a connection with the blonde bounty hunter, and by the details from what he hears out of Lucina and others' mouths, it involves glass, Samus, her armor, Shulk, and an amaranthine blob.

Lucario frowns, placing a paw under his jaw. It is all interrelated. He is sure of it, and he's been more sure of this than anything else in the last few days.

The question is, where does this all lie up at its end?

* * *

 **There we are ladies and gentlemen! That was Chapter #9: Consternation, of Brinstar Depths. Man, another chapter I've just been _waiting_ to get to. That question is the cincher isn't it, the mystery none of you have been able to solve: where does all of this tie up to, the relatedness with our characters and the incidents that have occurred. On a lighter note, I have had a headcanon of sorts that Lucario is this weapons mastermind genius person thing, and with Lucina, he's her instructor on sword fighting... now becoming an instructor to Samus herself. Bless the Game of Thrones character Syrio Forel, who I'm taking much inspiration from. Samus and her guilt will be expounded upon in further detail, now that we've reached the halfway point of the story.**

 **Sometime in the next two weeks I'll have Chapter #10: Rationalization out, and I cannot wait for that one either - running trend, huh - so my prompt goes out to you all. Where do you see this ending up? We've got Chapters 10-18 and then that's it, so your predictions and wonders? They're always interesting to think about and see who hits it right on the money. Thank you so much for reading, and please review! I'd love to know what you thought; always a delight! I hope you all have a wonderful day! I love you all so much! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	10. Chapter 10: Rationalization

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #10: Rationalization. I realize that it's been near a thousand years since I last updated this story, but I got extremely busy due to having Syrenet overtake all my writing time, plus school, with AP exams, plays, graduating (I graduated guys!) and now I have a new computer that I'm getting accustomed to with the new keyboard that I am not used to, as the keys are smaller than my old one. Last chapter involved Will and Samus discussing the fate of Shulk who is in the infirmary, and the fact that Samus has a new battling partner, Lucario, since she is not allowed to use her Power Suit right now in combat. I want to say thank you to Metroid-Killer for reviewing. Enjoy Chapter #10: Rationalization.**

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 _"One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we've been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We're no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It's simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we've been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back." ~ Carl Sagan_

"Are you sure about this?" Lucario asks, eyeing Mario with a particular edge of competence.

"I'm sure," the plumber nods.

Samus watches the minimal exchange between the two Smashers, frowning slightly. It is odd to be roused up in the middle of the night - well, hardly the middle of the night since it is only nearing around 10 P.M, but it is late by the bounty hunter's standards, and she's not too quite fond of it to be honest. Besides her, the conjoined group of Will, Sonic, Lucina, and Wanda are behind her all in various sorts of undress into sleeping clothes. Lucina yawns, brushing hair out of her face, dressed neatly in a nightgown that goes down to her ankles. Wanda and Will are both dressed in working out gear, having been in the gym doing one of their 'late night-runs' as Wanda calls them. Samus thinks both Forrest siblings are downright insane to be doing hefty squats and lifts at nearly eleven. How are they not exhausted?

Her arms are lined up with bruises from the earlier training session with Lucario, having gone back after an early dinner to get some more practice in. The thwacks of the wooden sword against her bare skin slash and dice up the dainty flesh with crimson markings, but all it does is give Samus a reason to fight back, a reason to grit her teeth and try again at getting better at sword fighting. A beam sword isn't so difficult to use in a match, a wooden piece of weaponry should be child's play. That, however is not the case, when she's greeted with the terrace concrete over and over again by Lucina's trained hand or Lucario's perfectly timed strikes and swings. Shulk is still lying in his coma with Dr. Mario's incessant care in keeping his vitals flowing, but Samus is still worried, biting her fingernails down to the nub, and then chewing on the skin that comes afterward. If Peach is to see her nails...

It is Wanda and her abnormally irritable attitude that gets the show on the road. "Are we going to stand around here all night or are you going to tell us what's going on?"

"I agree..." Lucina adds, yawning once more.

Samus keeps her opinions to herself. Vocalization nowadays seems to add only irritability to everyone else around you, and it is not her prerogative to have this be the case, even though everyone and their mother _does_ seem irritated with Samus Aran. She wants to go back to sleep, truth be told, and have all this madness be kept behind her, but that's never going to happen. She likes to imagine that if she wakes up from whatever eternal nightmare she has been caught in, she'll be transported to a place of happiness and beauty, where Shulk never is concussed, and that there is no amaranthine blob of god knows what terrorizing her every movement.

Lucario clears his throat at Wanda's probing, closing his eyes. A strange sense of coldness washes over Samus's exposed arms, and she shivers, hugging herself tight. Will sees her shiver, absentmindedly moving over more to be near her. The group is amassed in the library, over in the corner of the same bookshelf Lucario had noticed when notifying Mario of his discovery. It would be awkward for him if the rest of the gathered Smashers thought he to be a fraud. His eyes open once more, the bright blue a more subdued teal, like ocean waves enshrouding a piece of coral and darkening the depths below. "I wanted to make sure it was still there."

"Make sure what was still where?" Sonic frowns. He's the only one not dressed out of those roused to the library, barefoot now - as if the hedgehog is going to sleep in a bed with his sneakers on, Samus finds even the notion absurd - and it is odd not seeing the navy blur of fur not dressed up with any sort of human clothing.

Mario steps back from Lucario's side to stand next to Lucina, as the vulpine shifts into the center, his paws glowing a more subdued cerulean, a fire-like substance springing from both spikes in the center of his paws. "Two days ago, Lucina and I had one of our usual chess matches-"

"When I lost," the swordswoman cuts in abruptly, actually causing the aura master to glare at her for her rudeness. "I lost, as usual."

"Yes, while her and I were playing chess," Lucario keeps his composure up, swallowing heavily. Samus can see his body visibly shaking, more than likely out of Lucina's ignorant interruption, but even then the shake is minimal and only noticed by her trained eye. "After she left, I went to meditate in the corner closest to Sonic," and to prove his point, Lucario juts to the corner closest to Sonic with his paw. The group turns with him, and the corner is nothing out of the ordinary. Just another section in the library. "I always meditate after a game. It is a habit, which I understand humans are prone to. As my aura readings were coming through to me from all over the room, I noticed an anomaly." He turns to the bookcase behind him.

"An anomaly?" Will whispers to where Samus can hear him. "Isn't aura only readable in good and bad, like blue and red _only_ _?_ "

"I guess you haven't known Lucario for very long then," she smirks back at him.

"Most of the room had been shrouded in a bluish glow like the color coming from my paw," Lucario continues explaining, head slightly turned to the left so he can look back at the group. "Except this section of the bookcase here. It was gray. Usually that means it is lifeless, that it is decaying, but a bookshelf is an inanimate object that does not breathe nor live. How could it have an aura other than positive, due to knowledge? When I went to touch it, this happened-"

Samus's eyes go as wide as saucers when Lucario's paw pushes slightly up against one of the books lined on the shelf, a book with an olive green colored spine, before the fur, the aura glow, and spike all _mesh_ into the wooden object. Everyone besides Mario, including Samus herself, gasp, taking a slight step back. The area around Lucario's arm currently stuck in who knows what starts to darken, turning over slightly with each passing second into a vicious purple, shadow lines starting to form along the rippling edges which encircle the lupine's arm. Samus's hair on her arms stand straight up. She knows exactly what that color represents.

Lucario pulls the rest of his arm back out into the library, and the portal his arm created bounces and fluctuates before it returns to normal. The aura from his paw distinguishes, and the cool feeling Samus felt on her arms dissipates back to the chilled air from the ceiling fan above. Lucario turns back to the joined group, who, for once, the entire section is at a loss for words.

Wanda stabs at it first. "So... there's a portal in one of the library's bookshelves..." she presses the bridge of her nose. "This day is just getting better and better, I swear." she mumbles under her breath.

"Where does it lead?" Sonic questions.

"That's what Mario and I cannot configure for the life of us," Lucario gives a slight dismal shake of his head, and Samus can sense the sadness. Though Lucario is not a Psychic-type Pokémon from the world he comes from, it has been a trait that he is associated with knowledge. I've been trying to determine it by spending most of my time down here, but my searching and questioning have led to nothing other than disappointment and more questions."

"What do you think is it's purpose?" Will asks.

"We do not know that either," Mario admits. "We don't know much, except that it practically exists.

Samus looks up, having been staring at the floor, walking up the bookcase. She presses an ear up to it, wondering if she could hear anything on the other side. All she gets is nothingness, as the bookcase is not a living organism and not a piece of machinery. Silence, wooden silence that is doused in a subzero case that cannot be broken. She goes to prod at it, but Lucario grips her hand and pulls it away fast away from it.

"The portal was purple..." she whispers, then back at Will and Sonic. "A _purple_ portal, Will. Does that- does that mean..."

His eyebrows lift up with shock as his mind pieces the puzzle together, with Sonic's eyes bugging straight out of his skull. Will raises a hand to his mouth. "I didn't even notice that..."

"I'm sorry?" Lucario furrows his eyebrows together, at the prospect there is something that he does not know.

"Shulk and I have been experiencing these sort of terrors that have been following the two of us around. In particular, Shulk has heard one say to take me to a place called 'The Depths' though we are unsure of what exactly that message means. Amorphous blobs that we randomly see. They're what I suspect to be the cause of what happened to Shulk this afternoon, that one of these monsters stalking us had cut away one of the stadium window panes which had been intended on crushing him..."

Samus matches Will's gaze after saying this and she's shocked to see that his gaze is not soft and understanding like she expects it to be, but rather pointed, a glare with furrowed together eyebrows and a steeliness that is unexpected, as if his eyes are saying, " _Nice job Samus, for letting that one out of the bag. Only you, Sonic, Shulk, and I were supposed to know about this. Now, you've gotten my sister involved. You've gotten Lucina, Lucario, and Mario involved too."_

"And what do these creatures look like, Samus?" Mario asks.

It is Will that answers for her, as Samus starts to shudder, closing her eyes. She can picture Shulk's burns all along his arms, with charred bits of flesh hanging off like the chewed bits of paper from a dog eating homework, to the copper droplets following all the burnt off skin before the blonde swordsman collapses to the sidewalk, knocked unconscious due to the pain. His blonde hair blowing in the breeze, covering his blood-laced face, and her tears burn her skin, as she cries, as she gasps, as she yells that she's sorry, but apologies will get her nowhere, apologies are useless. "Usually amorphous and very large. Sometimes they take the shape of a human figure, since Shulk says he's seen one and interacted with one that took the place of Samus. We've only seen them for a few seconds at a time if we _ever_ do see one."

"I think they and the portal are connected, primarily due to their colors," Samus adds, pressing down her fingertips onto her eyes as if she is warding off a bright light that she wishes to hide from. Her eyes open, and she's staring down at the floor again. "Usually purple. Sometimes black and red mixed in, and the color is always moving, always devouring one another. Always shifting... it reminds me-" and she breaks away again.

"Reminds you of what, Samus?" Lucario questions gently, pressing a paw on her shoulder.

She does not even have to say it. For the four Smashers in the library that have been through it all, it is a word unspoken on the wind. A word that'll bring lightning to crash down from the heavens and scorch the Earth ablaze if it dared mentioned, she knows this. It brings her to memories of the world spinning away, at a gravitational force unlike any other pulling at her back as she runs, as she runs and never gets anywhere. Dark clouds of shadow filling her vision, suffocating her, drowning her in a sea of black. A monster with wings, flaxen like teeth that are razor sharp screeching in the air... amber eyes, beady amber eyes peering behind a mask of green staring at her everywhere. Above it all, orchestrating it, a god-like being with stain-glass windowed wings, a seraph that widens out his wings and Samus's world turns a cascade of crimson red before life ceases to exist and all the breath inside her is knocked out in one fell swoop.

"Subspace..." she whispers, her voice impossibly soft.

It is enough to cause Lucario to stagger back, and she's never seen the Smasher lose any of his bearings before in such a shocking way. His fur goes a paler shade of blue, and his eyes widen in fear. The aura dims immediately from the rest of his body. Mario's change is more subtle, a shifting of his feet, and a gloved hand brought up to his chin. Sonic shuffles awkwardly, hands pulling at each other. Saying the very word is hard enough for Samus as is, as if each syllable is molten hot lava being poured down her throat, clogging the airway, where hands erupt from the ground and pull at her, dragging her into the cloud of purple and black shadow, hands that turn into tendrils of smoke and sulfur which burn her skin as they grapple for her.

"You don't think-" Lucario cannot even finish his statement.

"That a remnant survived and is haunting us?" Samus does not blink as she says this. "Yes, I- I do."

"We must tell Master Hand this!"

"Don't act _too_ hasty, Lucario," Mario advises him, stopping him gently. "We don't know this to be to true."

"Yes we do," the vulpine argues back. "I've _felt_ it."

"Sonic and I have been-" Samus adds, suddenly stopping. A light snaps on far away in the shambles of her mind, the dust being blown off. She looks back at Sonic, who is having the same reaction. Wanda watches this with a frightened glance.

"What? What now?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the bounty hunter steps forward, gripping Sonic by the arm.

He doesn't even have to say anything, already taking off up the library steps, one moment he's there and the next he is gone. Samus straightens her back, turning to everyone else. "Will, do you have an extra walkie-talkie in your room that Sonic and I can use?"

For some reason, the Forrest sibling is surprised to even being spoken to now, during all of this. "I do... why?"

"I'm going to need it. Sonic and I are going to go to the Brinstar stage. Give the walkie-talkie to Lucario, and the rest of you stay here! I'll explain it all in a minute..."

Samus then turns to race after Sonic, leaving the rest of the gang to twiddle with their thumbs as her blonde hair vanishes behind the staircase and into the rest of the mansion. She's got a hunch... oh she hopes, how she hopes. If she's right...

It's the break of luck Samus needs right about now.

* * *

"You don't think-" Sonic starts, shaking his walkie-talkie.

"That the portal in the library is the one here in the lava, and that the hand we saw was Lucario testing it out?" Samus finishes.

"Exactly..." the hedgehog trails off.

Samus sits back on her hands in the middle of one of the slabs on the Brinstar stage, the air hot as ever. She's only been inside the hub for barely a minute, beads of sweat starting to already spill down her head and sizzle onto the stage like drops of Tabasco sauce into a pan. She clutches one the other walkie-talkie next to her chest, fiddling with the antenna. The other is currently in Lucario's hand down in the library where the other four are also located, watching whatever experiment is about to take place.

A newfound hope is beginning to rise inside Samus's chest. The past week has consistently been a realm of upsets and tiredness, from snapping at Will, to having Shulk injured from some malfunction, to being stalked by extraterrestrial monsters that may or may or not be the Smashers' worst enemies reincarnated. This gem, it is a spark that shall ignite should she prove to be correct in the proceedings. Sometimes, just sometimes, she needs more questions than answers to feel like she's getting somewhere. A mystery that is never quite completed is not an OCD problem for Samus, except that she does not have all the facts she needs.

The walkie-talkie sparks to life, static jarring and distorting among the airwaves. Normally any communication done inside the Brinstar stage during a brawl or training session happens via an intercom and television screens projecting the match to the outside, since the hot air and lava of the stage has been known to mess with equipment. It is not a room built to be spent taking someone's time performing covert operations that involve long distance communication using primitive technology. Samus would use her ship as a way to talk to those in the library, but unfortunately it cannot fit through the front door, and that is a construction bill she does not want to give Master Hand the money for.

"Lucario? Can you hear me?" she asks into the radio.

Her voice echoes against the walls, the flesh, pink walls that shake at every vibration that comes their way. This place has always unsettled her, but she cannot tell if it is due to being creeped out or the fact that she is fascinated by its design which terrifies her even more. She questions most of the decisions that Master Hand makes concerning the efforts in which stages are picked and remodeled, but since she rather likes her position in the whole mansion shebang, she chooses to be quiet instead of being handed the pink slip.

The Pokémon's voice comes back with full strength. "Loud and clear, Samus. Loud and clear."

"Can you hear him Sonic?"

"Connection is good," the hedgehog replies.

Samus brings the radio closer to her mouth. "Lucario, can you enter that mode of yours whenever you see the aura of something?"

"Most certainly."

The same coolness that Samus felt all the way back in the library washes over her once more, a soothing pulse that starts at the base of her spine and washes over the rest of her body, down to her toes and to the edges of her fingertips, a feeling that stretches out the blood vessels under her skin in which it relaxes her, and she can tell that Lucario has ascended to somewhere else, a world not of her own or of a mortal, due to the quickening of his voice, and the reverb of it when he speaks. She wonders if her aura is entirely blue, meaning positivity, or a fueled charcoal red, embittered by the years of battle in space against things that are the worst of what she can imagine in the world. Samus partially views herself as a villain, but in the oddest of concepts. She's a vigilante to some circles, a terrorist to others... and she has to view the world in multiple angles lest she be no better than the foes she pursues and the foes she kills.

"Are you immersed?"

"Yes, Samus."

"Step closer to the bookshelf. Is it still showing you gray, Lucario?"

"Gray to the deepest shade it can go."

She looks over at Sonic timidly, the hedgehog sitting with his legs crossed. The two lock eyes, and their gaze is amicable. Samus takes a deep breath, the cool feeling still radiating around her. "I hope I'm right."

"I think you are Samus, don't worry," Sonic assures her. The two flip onto their stomachs, the feel of the stage strange against Samus's exposed skin, causing her to shiver, but she keeps her focus down on the lava below. It is still swirling, as even if the stage is turned off, the physical machinations and laws of nature do not stop simply because humanity does. Every so often she can see the amaranthine shadows swirling in between the folds and creases of the lava, a bat hiding underneath the cover of darkness, a magician's parley trick that fools and gibes whomever it can.

Samus brings the walkie-talkie back up, dragging it over to her. "Okay, Lucario, go to the bookcase and stick your paw through the portal. Let me know when you do this, please."

A few seconds pass, before his response floods back over the airways. She and Sonic grip the edge of Brinstar with bated breath, holding on so long that Samus forgets to breathe, the last one held up in her throat, oxygen banging on the walls of her neck to be let out, a painful scorch. She exhales, when, just barely... she sees nothing. He sees nothing too, Sonic, that is. She stares at the lava for a good minute, about to respond back saying that their experiment is a failure, when, then out of the corner of her eye...

Blue fur! It's Lucario's paw!

"Lucario!" she yells into the walkie-talkie, perhaps giving the vulpine a headache. "It's your paw! Poking through the lava on the Brinstar stage! The portal in the library connects to the stage here!"

"Lava?" Lucario yelps, and the paw vanishes back through the portal, the area below back to a swirling mass of lava and shadow.

Sonic whoops into the air, giving Samus the largest smile. "You were right Samus! You were right!" He collides into her, hugging her, dropping his walkie-talkie. She returns the embrace, tightening it even further, resting her head atop his curls. She smiles, and the coolness vanishes from her body, meaning Lucario had slipped out of the aura level of the world to mortality. In a brief moment of hilarity, Sonic tries spinning around the stage with her, before he realizes he's too weak to lift her, and both tumble down onto the stage, laughing.

Samus snatches the walkie-talkie back up. "Lucario, are you still there?"

"I'm still here, Samus."

"The portals are connected!"

"What do you think it means?"

"I- I don't know."

She lets go of the walkie-talkie, it clattering to the stage. Sonic backs up away from her, as Samus lays down on the stage on her back, gaze looking up towards the roof of Brinstar's cave, the walls vibrating from her clamorous laughter. The elixir of life floods into her veins, and for a moment, Samus is elevated to a place that is other worldly. One bit of confusion in this ragged mess tied together, which means it has now posed a thousand more questions.

In this game of give and take, Samus is willing to give a bit, to take a slight edge of rationalization out of this.

A rationalization that she can use to conquer this shadow after her.

Now it is the Depths to play their turn.

And play their turn they will.

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 **And there we are ladies and gentlemen! That was Chapter #10: Rationalization, and man, we're only eight chapters away from the end of the story, gee it flies by. I would love to be able to have the rest of this piece published by July 4th, when I had began writing this, but only time will tell. I will definitely try my hardest to have another chapter written by sometime next week, as we're getting somewhere! Not only does the rest of the main characters now about the library portal, which means most of the characters minus Shulk are fully, _fully_ brought up to speed, Samus and Sonic, and to an extent Will have made an advance in progress with the whole mystery at hand. However, as I love me my questions, what do you think this portal's purpose is, and is it tied to the events happening to Samus and Shulk? What is the Depths going to do in response, the so called 'turn' I've hinted at? Curious to find out what you all think. Please review, I'd love to know what you all thought! I love you all so much! I shall see you again with Chapter #11: Communication. You all are the best. Have a great day! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	11. Chapter 11: Communication

**Hey everyone, it's Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter for Brinstar Depths, Chapter #11: Communication. We're nearing the end ladies and gentlemen, it is foreseeable in this future, and good lord I cannot wait. Last chapter, the portal had been unearthed to rest of the main characters besides Shulk, who's in his coma, and that Samus has made the discovery that the portal that is below the Brinstar stage connects to the one in the library found by Lucario, and that the color purple could associate it with Subspace, but she is still particularly lost on the whole central meaning. I am really excited for this chapter, particularly for the ending sequence, which I think you all will like too. Please enjoy Chapter #11: Communication.**

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 _"He who knows, does not speak. He who speaks, does not know." ~ Lao Tzu_

 _THWACK._ "Again." _THWACK._ "Again." _THWACK._ "Again." _THWACK._ "Again, Samus." _THWACK._ "Samus, are you even trying?" _THWACK._

"Yes, I'm trying-" _THWACK._ "Will you please stop hitting me so I can talk to you?"

It is the thirty-fifth time Samus - she knows this because she has counted. She always hears the youngsters complain about mathematics and what is the point to it all, and this is when she wants to stand up on the dining room table, with a drink in her hand, wine preferably, and shout this particular example. To count the number of times Lucario has beaten you with a stick during training - has been thwacked somewhere on her body by Lucario's wooden training sword. Whenever her feet slip, or her eyes leave the vulpine for a split second, he dances around her like a viper, paws thrusting outwards, and the weapon smacking against her arm or leg or even the side of her neck. In the middle of the training session, which has been only going on for about twenty minutes, Samus's body flushes red with all the blood pooling up to the surface of her skin like a tomato, as if she has been sunburned, and Samus notes silently that this is not a good look for her.

The trio of her, Lucina, and Lucario have moved from the terrace - whenever she thinks about it, it sends chills down her spine. Shulk saw her apparition here... it breeds a curse of something ugly - out into one of the more relaxing gardens, where ivy stalks cling to buildings like tape to fingers, flowers bloom in bouquets of rainbow colors in the corners of the cinderblock cell. Fountains trickle water down to the soil in complex designs and contraptions, sometimes associated with musical notes that echo against the stone A few of the Smashers have come to watch her train, Samus has seen, by the collection of three people sitting on the side of one of the building's patios. Samus catches the gaze of Fox, Rosalina, and Sheik, part of which inspires her that two of the most ample and nimble and strongest Smashers wish to keep their eyes on her. She figures that the interstellar queen of the star ways is there to ensure that her precious garden does not go up in flames under Lucario's watchful eye.

At this point in their session, Samus feels more frustrated than fulfilled, and more of a failure than achieving any sort of accomplishment. Her arms are testament to this, splotches of furious cardinal and a blushing, violent carnation pink spotting her flesh like one of the creatures out of a Dr. Seuss book she likes that she read to Lucas at one point during one of his nightmare trips. She does not know what it is, necessarily, that is upsetting her so which is causing her to lose focus, as she's normally in the zone and ready to jump at whatever specific challenges can come her way.

Samus goes to bed with excitement flowing in her veins, a buzz that she rides out through her slumber which is filled with bright pastel colors and acrylics which splash behind her closed eyelids. She is free from any nightmares, which she finds odd. Normally she has one, at the minimum, in her sleep. None of them except in the very beginning have caused her to awaken out of terror, with sweat streaming down her forehead, or with her palms feeling clammy as if a cold, gelid wave had passed over her. It is all about the portal, and what it means, what it all means in the grand scheme of things. She's never been quite openly puzzled about an obstacle before, and what it means in terms of her journey in the Mansion.

All the Mansion had been before the Subspace Emissary is home, and it still remains to be this way after the devastating epic she experienced with most of the other inhabitants. Now, after the ordeal, the word home for the Mansion has evolved into a safe haven, where nothing despicable can happen to her as long as she is stuck inside the walls built by Master Hand all those years ago. Here she does not age, here she is secure, safe, and soundly ready to fight. The meaning of her safe haven is starting to slightly shift, ever so, like the creak of a door opening, where purple laced figures and shadows with no faces edge along the wall and hide away from the sunlight. The corridors do not seem all brightly lit, and it is when Samus looks down at her own hands, she realizes they're red, burnt, bloodied, and simply she's been hiding the abuse she's been giving herself all these years while fighting for the masses.

This thought catches her off guard again, sucking Samus out of the moment when Lucario lashes straight out at her, smacking her right in the face. The blunt edge of the sword knocks right in between Samus's left eye and her mouth, clocking her adjacently on the nose. The pain shocks her out of the pensive state, before stumbling back into a hedge, clutching her nose.

"Ow!" she exclaims. She looks at Lucario with fury in her eyes. "What the hell? That wasn't cool!"

The aura Pokemon rubs his shoulder abashedly, eyes flitting up to look at the clear blue sky instead. "I thought you were going to parry, Samus."

"Maybe it would've been better to hit somewhere else, like my already destroyed arms?"

"I wanted to get your attention," Lucario shuffles on his feet, flipping the sword around in his hand.

"Don't worry, you got it..." Samus scowls, rubbing the side of her face again. It is ginger to the touch, flaring up slightly as she winces, picking up the sword. Lucina stands back in her perch, underneath the shade of a building's awning, chewing on an apple. She snickers slightly at the exchange, having wore her usual long tunic for sword fighting. Samus flashes the bluenette a glare, speaking ' _You're next, you little brat',_ before lunging at Lucario with her weapon. She is unable to understand how Lucina is able to wear her long clothing while the sun is out, as again, she's been outside for barely twenty minutes already having sweat enough to lose one hundred pounds.

Lucario ducks under Samus's swing, skirting away, blue fur blending in with the emerald waves of grass. The bounty hunter snaps her gaze to him, advancing on him, swinging downwards. He blocks it, pushing back against her with all his might. Samus's heels dig into the grass, her soles scuffing up the dirt which clings to her pale flesh. She leans forward, distorting her face into a larger scowl, pushing against him back. The strength causes Lucario to back up, unable to continue forcing all of his might. Samus uses this brief moment to her advantage, slashing upwards, which Lucario dodges by the skin of his teeth by leaning slightly on his heels. By the time Samus is able to bring the wooden sword back to her, he rights back on her with a flurry of attacks, the aura circulating around his paws starting to glow a darker shade of cerulean.

She grits her teeth, thinking fast by slamming her left foot straight into Lucario's waist. This action catches him by surprise, which causes his hands to slack slightly with the grip on the sword. Samus smacks the wooden blade into Lucario's right hand which had been holding the sword. It goes flying out of his grip into the grass. Now's her chance... she brandishes the weapon sideways like a bar, crashing right into Lucario, caught off guard. She hits him in the chest with the weapon, causing both to fall down onto the grass. Out of the corner of her eye, Samus sees Lucina jump to her feet, a hand curled around Falchion sheathed by her waist. Samus has the wooden blade pressed into Lucario's neck, forcing the pressure ever so as she is atop him, sweating a storm, her breathing ragged, all the while Lucario's own matches hers, his a tone higher in exultation and joy.

Lucario smiles happily, a rather uncouth gesture for someone normally so serious. "Very good," he comments. "Where did all of that come from? I don't think I've ever seen you fight that angrily, even in a match."

Samus stands on her feet, outstretching a hand for him to grab himself so he can help himself to his balance, paws touching the soft grass. "You got my attention," she says. "Don't make me angry."

"Does that mean I tapped into unknown anger issues?" Lucario raises an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes at the comment; last she needs is the blue canine to also act as her shrink already in a residence that has so many clinical positions and psychiatrists and doctors, yet despite all this she has never gone to see one. Why would the Smashers need these paid professionals when Dr. Mario is in the same quarters, relatable, and always available even when he has a match?

"It means," interrupts Lucina, as the bluenette had wandered over to the duo, when Samus had opened her mouth to reply. "That Samus got sick and tired of your patronizing attitude and manner," she jests at Lucario, and then to the bounty hunter, "That was excellent, I'll admit. You aren't a swordsman, but it was good."

"Thank you," Samus smiles breathlessly. She needs a drink, water or Chardon, it is a liquid all alike to her.

However, Lucario is stuck on his trainee's impudent comment, frowning while rubbing his jaw with his paw. "Patronizing? Am I really patronizing?"

" _Beyond,"_ Lucina corrects herself, giving Samus a towel to wipe her head.

Samus accepts the item gracefully, looking back up to the patio where the three Smashers had been watching her. All three are leaned up against the railing, in a different, yet alike manner of situating themselves. Fox has one elbow resting on the black metal bar, a hand curled into a fist underneath his chin. Rosalina has both hands turned into fists resting against her head, eyes wide and sparkling in fascination. Sheik is the most leaned back of the three, her fingers intertwined with each one another, the white bandaging crossing each other like pallid pieces of wet toilet paper, which is a simile that once Samus thinks of, she shudders. It looks as if a free-for-all between her, and the trio that were watching is up for grabs soon, and Samus will not mind a weapon similar to the sword should she use one.

Her eyes pass to the right of them, to the doorway in which the patio would lead back into which connects to a hallway, gaze scanning it for anyone else, passing it, then returning to it suddenly. She furrows her eyebrows, stepping forward slightly, tilting her head to the side. Samus swears on her ship - she loves that thing. A pilot never swears on their vessel, it is sacrilegious, and Samus never parts with it - that there is a fourth person witnessing the event that took place. Upon further inspection, which is more so Samus leaning in even further, her past concern is proven correct. There is someone, a figure that she does not recognize, in the doorway, hidden by the shadows, with their head titled upwards, as if they're regarding her with admiration or acceptance. Her blood runs cold, as if she's been struck by ice.

Two beady eyes, pearl, near milk-white in color, peer at her from underneath the darkness, and as the stranger lowers their head, Samus sees that this person is wearing a low-cut hat, the circular kind that goes around the entire head. The figure bows, one second they're there, the next... gone, in a flurry of speckled amaranthine dots. Samus looks away, biting down on her lip.

Is that...

Was that...

Samus shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She's getting a headache. She is not in the mood to exactly be experiencing one right now. She turns slightly, to wave goodbye to Lucario and Lucina, who are deep in a conversation once again about balance. Samus knows so much about balance and her cochlea and the experience of motion sickness purely from the two's conversations that she feels she could write a thesis paper for some sort of degree in the sciences about that very particular topic and all of its fledglings.

A few of her items are resting against one of the columns outside the garden's entrance, with a sticky note written by yours truly next to it. _Touch my stuff and die. ~ Samus,_ the personal touch that causes her to smile. On the ground is her phone, a wristwatch, her gun and plasma whip - which, despite the confusion with her suit, Master Hand lets her _keep_ those items, which is bizarre to her, but Samus has yet to notice any problems - and a bottle of water. Samus reaches down to put her phone inside her jacket pocket, slapping the whip and gun back to their usual positions against her hips, clutching the water bottle in her left hand. As the picks up the plastic bottle, something falls over onto the stone, having been pushed up against the column by the water bottle.

She looks around the vicinity warily. Is this another Subspace trick? A bomb? Samus grabs it gingerly, feeling it. It is an envelope of some sort, slightly damp from the water bottle, the envelope a crème vanilla color, and on the front, written in quite neat handwriting, her name. The handwriting looks masculine, which she finds to be a paradoxical connection, as she's seen many of the guys' handwritings on letters and their penmanship is messy at best and downright disastrous at worst. Besides Marth, who is royalty, Ganondorf for partially the same reason, Snake due to being an espionage agent, and Mario and Luigi due to their elevated status, Samus wonders if many of the men in the Mansion have ever even seen a pencil, pen, or writing instrument before.

Samus slowly rips open the envelope, putting it to her ears to make sure it is not ticking or anything. With all the unexplained phenomenon happening in the Mansion, she is not crossing out planned assassination attempts from this entity's list. By the time the envelope has fallen to the ground, without exploding, Samus wants to add, she is holding a card in her hands, which is not ticking, since she's checked.

The bounty hunter flips it open, and bursts out laughing after seeing who the card is from. She goes through all this trouble and has her paranoia run rampant all because she thinks it is some sort of professionally laid trap when all it is, is a letter from Will. Samus does find it odd, again she'll admit the peculiarities, that the athlete is writing her a letter instead of speaking to her face-to-face, but men and their fears are something she cannot nor will she try to understand. She's intimidating, she'll give herself that.

 _Dear Samus,_

 _I cordially invite you to spend your evening having dinner with me tonight, Will Forrest. Arrive by my room at 7 PM sharp, dressed in something fancy if you can handle it. I know you'll hate wearing a dress, but wear one for me anyways. There's a lot we need to talk about, and I wish to do it outside of the mansion, for our own safety. And please, do not consider this a date. It is nothing of the kind. Just a casual, dressed up evening between two amazing friends and co-workers. ... Okay on second thought, this is definitely a date. I'm asking you out on a date. Please say yes. Thank you in advance._

 _~ Sincerely, Will Forrest, your neighborhood athletic trainer._

She looks up at the sky, smiling so large that it causes her cheeks to hurt. Bless Will's soul, the poor guy is so timid - she finds it out given his ego in and out of the arena concerning battle matters - to invite her to dinner - a _date,_ Samus corrects herself inside her head, _he's inviting Samus out to dinner and wants her to wear a dress_ \- that he has to write her a card and not even give it to her in person.

This day is sounding better and better as it goes on.

Samus is trying to think back to the last time she's ever worn a dress. Master Hand likes to throw balls every once and awhile, but she's usually declined them to spend evenings training with Snake, because while it is hilarious to watch Falcon go around and ask nearly every lady, and then some of the gentlemen since he's desperate, for a dance gets stale when it happens four years in a row. Last year, for their Winter gala, Luigi politely accepts Falcon's proposal, not because either man likes one another on that level, but because Luigi is a gentleman and a gentleman first, teaches Falcon the proper way to dance with a woman. Asking her to do acrobatic tricks is normally not the way to go.

She giggles, thinking of Will daring to ask her to do something like that for him. She's athletic sure, but she does not know if she's quite flexible enough to do a somersault cartwheel into a round-off back layout step-out. Even the trick sounds fancy in her head, but Samus does not want her spleen all over the floor if she tries.

However, amidst all the joyful thoughts, her mind darkens at the last time she spoke with him. It had been last night, after she announces the portal business and Depths business to the others, that Will glares at her. His glare, a look that is criticizing and judgmental, and filled with venom that it catches her by surprise. Samus has not had the chance - well, she's had the chance, she just hasn't wanted to - stop by his room and talk to him, since clearly she made an executive decision yesterday without his approval that catches him with his pants down. A seed of bitter regret plants itself in her stomach, and all of a sudden the evening does not sound as enticing as it once did just moments earlier.

Samus flips the card between her fingers, liking the way it coolly feels against her skin, nibbling on her bottom lip. Decisions, decisions... and with such little time to think about all of it. If she does not show up at the door to his room at the ordained time, she's stood him up and she thinks it'll make her look like a coward. With Shulk stuck in his coma, and most likely mad at her given the circumstances, which Samus understands entirely, she does not need a wounded puppy in the form of Will Forrest looking at her with wide eyes and hanging by her heels, afraid to even speak.

She takes a deep breath and sighs.

It looks like she's having a fancy date tonight.

What could possibly go wrong?

" _Everything could go wrong, Samus Aran. Have you not learned that yet?_ " her mind whispers to her.

She chooses to ignore it.

Sometimes it seems like the inner machinations of her mind and the voice of Brinstar Depths are one and the same.

That thought scares her.

No, it does not scare her.

It terrifies her.

* * *

Will pushes the vanity mirror resting on his bathroom sink back some, the mirror catching his neck and face as his hands twiddle at away at the bowtie currently wrapped around his neck. He's dressed finely in a dark suit with suspenders, smooth, ironed out dress pants to match the top. Although he will never admit it, and the woman swears she'll keep it to her grave, Princess Peach is the one who irons the suit, since she learns that Will had invited Samus on the date and wanted to make sure everything had been in tip-top shape.

He slicks back his hair with some gel, making sure not to overdo it. He didn't even work out today, because for some reason, and it drives Will crazy, whenever he sweats, it lingers with him no matter how much coconut shampoo and body wash he uses. The last thing Samus needs is to ask for the car to be turned around and the date ends in an awkward biscuit breakfast at 5 AM cooked by Waddle Dee. He really hopes this goes well, he's actually been counting on it for quite some time. With all the chaos the mansion is going under, there's a slice of clarity that really needs to happen, and Will hopes that tonight could be what is the deciding factor.

The athlete is standing in front of his bathroom mirror, adding the finishing touches, like rolling up his sleeves. He looks at himself in the mirror and deduces that, for once, just this one time, he does not look like garbage. He has no idea what transformation must've taken place over the last couple hours, but he understands that it'll never happen again.

He pats himself in the face, gently. "Alright, you can do this Will Forrest, you can do this..." he coaches himself in the mirror, bending his knees, shaking his fists back and forth. "She'll be down here any minute and you're going to ask if she's ready. I can do this, it's just dinner. Just dinner..." Will runs a hand through his hair, liking the feeling of the coolness by the gel. "Just dinner with the hottest woman in the mansion..." he feels slightly embarrassed for even uttering that sentence aloud, regardless of the fact he has thought it. He doesn't understand how people _wouldn't_ find Samus to be attractive, let alone all of the women in the Mansion. He decides not to dwell on that rather... creepy factor. "She'll like where we go, Master Hand recommended it. She'll like where we go, I know it. Just smile and be as polite as you can. No talk of Subspace..." Will gets closer to the mirror, resting his elbows on the granite counter, leaning in so his nose is an inch away from the glass. "No mentioning of Subspace. No. Subspace!"

A light knock comes from the door, Will snapping alert to it. He checks the watch currently around his wrist. The time reads 6:58.

"Early..." he whispers aloud. "It might not be her. When is Samus ever early to anything?" Will voices aloud.

Great. The athlete has reverted to talking to himself about conspiracy theories given his evening. All because of a girl. He feels like he's back in middle school again. Ooh boy... the things Will Forrest did in middle school when he thought he had been girl crazy. Smells went a _long way..._

He fixes his bowtie a bit, as it had gotten crooked. Will turns the light off to the bathroom, stepping back into the main room of his dorm, before crossing over to the front door. He stands still in front of it, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The athlete runs over the brief monologue he's going to say in his head, it'll knock Samus Aran right off of her feet and she'll just immediately want to ask for his hand in marriage. That thought actually causes him to snort in amusement. As if that would ever happen. Game time. Will's hand eclipses the door knob, he wrenches the door open, leans up against the frame in the open space, and the words die immediately on his tongue thereafter.

She looks absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and if Will's body hadn't been in such pristine shape due to the exercise and healthy lifestyle, he may have indeed become comatose right there on the carpet. Samus is standing in his doorway, her blonde hair curly and down, with bobs lightly ghosting and bouncing over her exposed shoulders. She's wearing a dress, backless as Will can see from the way she's standing, the material a dark fuchsia. Will feels like he's been transported to some foreign country and cannot speak the language. Country beauty, language of love. Samus looks up, her face lightly powdered, a bit of pink eyeshadow and blush accompanying her normal skin tone. She's also in stilettos, a good three or four inches off the ground, but luckily the point is not pencil thin. His tongue feels heavy as he's trying to speak, the syllables catching in his throat.

"You- you look beautiful..." he says, swallowing heavily.

Samus looks down at her feet abashedly for a moment, her left hand swiping a curl over her ear. "Th- thank you..."

"I-" Will breaks off, giving an exulted breath. "I had a huge monologue and everything prepared but you just stole my breath away..."

"Well, don't die..." she giggles. Samus Aran just giggled. In a girly fashion. What is the world going to? Will wishes he had the answer. "You look great yourself." He can tell she's not lying, since Samus is honest about appearances given the Smashers normally, on a day-to-day basis all look like they rolled in pig sties.

"Goodness aren't you sweet," his speech rolls off the tongue as smooth as someone falling off a cliff. "I will be honest, I didn't expect you to get _this_ dolled up."

"Trust me, this might be the only time you ever see me like this," Samus rolls her eyes. "I hate these heels; I borrowed them from Zelda. And yes, I've never worn this much makeup in my life."

Will laughs heartily. There's the usual tomboyishness he's expecting. Given that Samus walks around normally in jumpsuits or work-out clothes, there usually is not an occasion for her to bust out the backless beautiful dress. Let alone, he thinks, it be for him. His heart swells just a bit more at the thought. Not only did she show up, not only did she show up _early,_ she arrives in front of his doorstep looking like she came straight out of a paradise. All for him, and all because he asked if she could. Who else on the planet would do that for him?

"Are you ready to go?" he asks.

"No," Samus says right back at him. "This is only half of my get-up." A feel of silence hangs over them for a moment, before the two burst out laughing. It pools into Will's stomach like a fire, the contagious kind that rattles his bones with a festive spirit. He cannot imagine the last time he's felt this jolly and happy about anyone or anything before. After the humor settles down slightly, she leans on the opposite end of the tiny door frame. "Where are we going tonight? Are we eating in the cafeteria?"

"No, not the cafeteria. You're better than that, unless I've made a terrible mistake..." Will smirks. He puts a hand in his pocket. "No, you know that Italian restaurant about a mile into the city?" Samus nods. "The family owned one?" Another nod. "Reservations at 8:15."

Samus's eyes widen a bit. "I love that place! Especially their shrimp scampi. How'd you know about that place?"

"You told me."

"And you _listened?"_

"Not all of us guys are total losers," Will smiles. Goodness, if his sister could see him now. _Look at me big sis, I am shooting for the big leagues now. I can't wait to tell Shulk all about our evening!_ "Just a select few."

"But won't it be busy? A Friday evening? Paparazzi everywhere, and I don't think I'd want them to see me looking like this; just imagine the tabloid lines and-"

"Already taken care of. Master Hand got us the entire restaurant."

"The _entire_ restaurant?" Samus's eyes widen some more. "You did all of this just for me?" A nod, where Will wishes to burst into tears for some reason, but he cannot put a finger onto why. "Why?"

"Because sometimes someone likes you deserves it," Will says, having rehearsed that answer is head a thousand times over. "And with all that's being going on, I thought it was going to be a great distraction."

"How long were you planning this?"

"I asked Master Hand to make the reservation about two weeks ago," he responds. "It just happens to be coincidence that the world is falling around us at the same time."

It is true, what Will is saying. It's a Tuesday, early morning, no match scheduled for that day. He, his sister, Samus, Snake, and Falcon were to be going for a run around the Mansion a couple of times, and he wakes up a bit before his usual alarm, about an hour earlier specifically so he can slip into Master Hand's office before all the annoying, prattling work calls stream in. Will is first in line to speak the sentient being, asking all the while twiddling his thumbs if he can do an off-site dinner date for him and one of the other Smashers. Though Master Hand allows and has off-site events planned all the time, normally Master Hand is the one to execute the decision, without another Smasher wanting to do their own independent gig. The topic of conversation at dinner the night before had been shrimp scampi served by Kirby, who decided to show the Waddle Dee's who's boss. Samus gives the pink round ball of cuteness a large hug, saying the dinner had been delicious, but nothing could beat the classic a bit into Seattle. Will decides immediately, then and there, it is to be a thing. He, taking her, her to her favorite restaurant in the local area to have her favorite dish all to prove how much he cares for her.

Actions speak louder than words, right?

Samus's eyes start to brim with tears, and he's afraid she's going to break into a sobbing fit right there on the freshly steamed carpet - it had been Falco's turn to do the chores for that side of the Mansion, who'd be crappy if the carpet had been stained even a little bit - but instead the blonde pulls him into a hug, the tightest, yet most loving interaction he has ever had before.

"Thank you..." she whispers into the nape of his neck, where the consonants flutter warmly on his skin, a gentle tickle from a hearth and its accompanying flames. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he says back. The two break apart, and then Will digs into his pocket, pulling out the car keys. When prodded by Master Hand in how the two would wish to be transported to their dinner date, Will describes the experience of wanting something sheik and slick be their ride. After Master Hand directs him to Wario, who is apparently the excelled salesman for cars, Will scores himself, for that evening, a good ole' classic Mustang, painted a gorgeous and swathe onyx black, with fresh new tires and brakes. Will has never been a car person, but this instrument of beauty has to be his love child.

Her eyes seize the keys, as if she's a child locked in a candy store. "Mustang?"

"You betcha."

"Do you know how to drive one?"

"Do _you_ know how to drive one, Samus?" Will asks. "Again, remind you, I'm human. Born on Earth, lived on Earth my entire life."

"I know how to drive..." Samus says, rubbing her shoulder.

"A spaceship... in space!"

"I've driven cars and motorcycles before."

"Oh yeah?" Will juts his chin upwards somewhat. "Like what?"

"I've driven Wario's bike before."

"And how'd that go?"

Samus frowns. "I think I might've crashed, and I may have caused it to explode. He didn't get mad though," she adds hurriedly as Will makes a horrified facial expression with the mouth hanging open, eyes widening in shock. "Wario has plenty of bikes, even though he has no insurance... and yes, you can drive."

Will nods, closing the door to his room. He offers his arm out to Samus, who looks at him as if he has taken an entire jar of crazy pills. Her look does seem to be unflinching, meaning he is scoring on rock bottom with this. Will sighs, dropping his arm back to his side as the two walk down to the parking garage placed adjacently from the Mansion. It had been built to guests could park and stay and take a tour of the Mansion before or after a brawl took place, but there were two special floors built, one for employees that were not the Smashers, and a second floor strictly for only the vehicles the Smashers could use. A helipad had been added by Dr. Mario's request, saying that a life in need always needed to be considered, and sometimes, if normal hospitals were too far and the patient needed immediate medical attention, the Mansion itself could serve as a hospital on an exclusionary notice. The new parking garage floor could not hold all of the avian vehicles unfortunately, so Fox and Falco's Airwing, or Samus's ship were placed in a hangar near the far backside of the Mansion, but that area had seldom ever been opened up since it had been built.

The two walk in silence, which Will finds unusual, since the two had seemed so chatty back by his dorm. Occasionally, while the two traverse, he finds himself looking at her to pass the time. He still cannot believe how beautiful Samus looks. Wherever there is an imaginary pair of dice that decides the fate of the world, he is thanking his lucky stars that someone rolled the great double 7's. However, as he walks, a thought begins to settle in his stomach, a seed that sprouts into a full fledged tree.

Although he is going on a date with Samus, there's still an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed; the input Samus gave to yesterday's pow-wow without even thinking of mentioning it to him beforehand, with the whole portal business. He's got his crush - good lord he is such a juvenile, as his sister would say - and he's happy that this is even happening, but there's a line that has been crossed and he needs to mend it before the bridge collapses and its too late.

So much for the happy and positive vibes he had felt from before.

By the time the two reach the parking garage and find the Mustang, Samus has taken off her heels, walking in her bare feet. He opens the passenger side car door for her, which she politely accepts the gesture of gentlemanliness, before he crosses around the back of the car to get into the drivers seat. The car purrs to life, slow and deliberate, as if Will can feel the very soul of the Mustang roar to life in his bones, a slight shake, a slight rattle that hums along his flesh, causing all the hairs to stand on end. He shifts the car into reverse, righting himself out of the parking spot, returning to drive to turn onto the main road, and the car squeals off into the night.

Black shadows pass over his face as he starts driving, it being 8:15, an hour to get to their reservation. He's drumming on the windshield, mind mulling all over the possible ways the next conversation should go. If he has the discussion during dinner, it could spoil his appetite, or her appetite and ruin the entire evening. If he does it right here in the car, she may want to turn back and cancel the entire evening. A bitter pill that must be swallowed, although unpleasant, must still be swallowed regardless. Lancing a boil is never pleasant, and it is painful, but it must be done.

He clears his throat. "Samus, I was wondering if we could talk."

She's looking outside the window at the current moment, eyes shutting slightly as waves of oak trees after waves of oak trees pass by her. At Will's words, she rights herself up in the seat, sitting straight like a rocket, looking over at him. "Sure. What's up?"

Will tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He's happy that the drive to the restaurant from the Mansion into downtown Seattle is a rather straight, long road, versus it being full of turns and leaps and valleys that would make conversing difficult.

"I um- I just wanted to say that I didn't appreciate what you told Mario and Lucario last night when they showed us the portal..."

Samus is tapping away at the arm rest as well, and when Will finishes speaking, she winces. "I figured that's what you wanted to talk about, and I've been thinking about it all day. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, it had just been a spur of the moment decision."

"I thought that this matter was only going to be between Sonic, Shulk, you, and I," he says, letting up from the gas a bit so the car slows down from seventy miles an hour to sixty-five. The five mile an hour drop does make a difference he notices, and besides, going fast makes Will believe all of his body has to fast so to speak, including his temper, and this is not a conversation in which he wishes to get upset and destroy all he had tried to build. "Maybe Master Hand if things got serious. But, now, Lucario, Mario, Lucina, and my _sister_ know about these entities that may or may not be targeting us. I just wish you had told me you were thinking about letting others know..."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Will, I wasn't thinking. I- I thought that having a few extra opinions on the whole ordeal would help. But, now, with those portals being connected it makes all of this even more confusing."

Will gives her a side glance. "Wanda is normally apprehensive about the supernatural as it is, given that she can hardly get over the fact that she fits robots who can speak, or a dark lord king from some world she's never been in and has only played from with videogames. Well, now, we've introduced to her these specter-like figures that have caused us damage, and may have indirectly or directly injured another Smasher! She _saw_ what happened to Shulk, you told me yourself she had entered the arena looking for you."

Samus wishes she could be anywhere else by now. He wishes he could be anywhere else right about this moment in time, as Will understands and can figure out when he's stating to get upset as well, by the way his heart rate continues to increase, or the way his pace quickens by the shortness of each breath.

"I remember," Samus says slowly, and he's unsure how she's taking this. He isn't trying to put all the blame on her, but with the way things have been going, _he's_ putting all the blame on her.

"And with Wanda being mad at me for whatever reason, I doubt very much that I can even try to rationalize this whole mess. One day, the morning of the brawl I had with Greninja, she's cool with me," he scoffs. "Afterwards, when we were finding Sonic, I abruptly cut her off from something and all of a sudden she's down my throat about hiding something and it's starting to irritate me. My twin sister is irritating me. Imagine that."

"You might want to be a bit more forward with your anger, Will..."

Her words flow right over him, stabbing him through the heart. He _is_ hurting her, Samus, right this instance, with how he's acting. Spoiled, belligerent, and rude, when he's supposed to be the gentleman right now, the gentleman from her dreams and he isn't doing that. He lifts his right hand off the steering wheel to wipe his face, starting to have beads of sweat trickle down his forehead due to his nervousness.

"I'm sorry for being so blunt," he apologizes, "I- I really am. I just wanted to get this out of the way now instead of dinner."

"No, I understand," Samus says, but her voice cracks slightly at the end of 'stand', and Will's heart sinks. "Will, trust me, of all people, I get it."

The two drive on in silence for a bit, the time passing to 8:50, with only a few more miles before they reach Seattle, as Will can see the brightly lit high rise skyscrapers glowing like personal Christmas trees in the night sky on the horizon. Samus has resumed to looking out the window, turning on the car radio, the music from some 1980's rock station flowing through the car, and Will mouths the words to himself. This is music, from his time, from his generation, and if he could see Samus's face, he imagines there must be some heavy confusion.

After awhile, however, Samus returns to her normal face forward position, turning off the radio. Will's voice cracks in mid lyric, and he realizes without the accompaniment of the instrumental and the singer's voice, his own is downright horrendous and probably has killed a few baby chicks on the drive. He wants to protest that he really liked the song that had been playing, but none of this feels like a good opportune moment to complain, as he's not in the right position to even argue at the time.

Samus sits up in her seat, scooting over as close to Will as she can. "There's something I want you to promise me, Will. Fully serious, here."

"Yeah, Samus?"

"Park the car first. I want you to look at me."

Will cocks his head to the right some, frowning. Park the car? Is she crazy? They might miss the reservation. "I can do both."

"I'd rather not crash," Samus says, but he still does not pull off to the side of the road and turn off the ignition. She locks her jaw. "Will Forrest. Lock. The. Car!" she yells at him with a tone of urgency behind it. The sudden leap in emotion startles him, Will pulling off a bit haphazardly across the middle lane before getting a hang out of the wheel and gently going off to the side of the road where pine trees cover the dark paint.

He puts the Mustang in park, looking over at Samus. "What, Samus?" he asks, tone slightly annoyed. There's been a definite emotional slide that has happened this evening, and they haven't even had the shrimp scampi.

She grabs his hand after he puts the car into park, and he tries to reel away, as her hands are sweaty for some reason. "If this whole Depths thing turns out to be more than we think, something truly serious... I want you to promise me something."

"Sure, anything, Samus," Will says.

"I'm dead serious here, Will. You won't like it."

"When I say something, I _mean_ it Samus."

The bounty hunter closes her eyes, still looking stunning in her radiating outfit. "Subspace, even though you've heard all the stories, is still one of the worst, if not the worst thing that has ever happened in my life. It, it took a toll," she swallows heavily. "If this Depths ordeal proves to have to do something with Subspace or the Emissary or anything of the sort, I'm not going back to their clutches alive, Will." He looks for any sign of regret, perhaps an emotion or eye twitch that could give away that she's joking.

Nothing. Dead, stone cold emotion.

A lump forms in Will's throat. "Are- are you saying?"

"I want you to kill me if things get out of hand, Will," Samus says urgently, pressing her fingernails into his hand, causing him to wince in pain. "I won't be returning to that mess alive."

His eyes widen. "Samus, don't ask me to do that! I- I can't-"

"Promise me you'll do it!" she presses down harder.

The lump grows in his throat.

Will swallows it, his body evidently shaking.

"I- I promise, Samus."

* * *

Sonic yawns, pulling up a chair to rest up against Shulk's bedside. It is around 10:30 PM, and the blue hedgehog has decided to take up the charge of visiting and staying in the Monado wielder's hospital room for the evening. He cannot explain it, he just has an itch to do the right thing. Wanda had already visited earlier that afternoon to read to the blonde, because apparently the person in the coma can perhaps show stimulus to an outward event or action despite the signs not necessarily being all external. Internally, Sonic cannot see Shulk's organs, nor does he want to, so sitting by his bedside and checking on him works as well.

Dr. Mario pats the hedgehog on the back a little while earlier, the time just passing the threshold of around 10 PM, having examined and analyzed Shulk's vitals, deeming him to be alright. If anything unusual is to happen while Sonic stays in the room, he's instructed to slap or slam into the red alert button right by the door to the hospital room, which'll send R.O.B down to Dr. Mario's room and awaken the medical professional who could handle the crisis.

Originally it had been Will's idea for people to take shifts during the night in the blonde's room, for courtesy since they were all friends, and Wanda begrudgingly agrees since she had been one to witness the event that took place. However, with Will out on his date with Samus, Wanda having another round of the time of the month, and Lucian unable to even look in Shulk's direction, Sonic finds himself picking the short stick.

He's not too particularly upset. Nothing ever upsets him, truth be told.

Sonic clucks his tongue in the silence. He did bring a book to read, but he's read that book nearly one hundred times in an hour, so he's not going to bother for a one-hundred and one-time. He had stopped by the cafeteria to pick up an extra milk carton and cup of peaches to eat while the night would grow, and Sonic finishes gulping down the milk, having eaten the fruit earlier. He steps up to go throw it away in the trash can, his shoes making squeaky noises on the tile. Although he knows that Shulk is in the coma, Sonic hears the tiny squeaks to be a herd of elephants crashing down upon the ceiling, even the loudest noise of all noises wouldn't wake the Monado wielder. Sonic's fingers had just let go of the carton when he hears a cough behind him.

The hedgehog freezes somewhat, turning around him. To his surprise, and then immediate rush of elatedness, the boy laying in the hospital bed, dressed in the hospital gown, stirs.

"Shulk!" Sonic cries happily, rushing over to his bedside in a flash, as if it never even happened. "You're awake!"

Something's off, and it's apparent when Shulk opens his eyes. When did Shulk ever have amaranthine colored eyes? Sonic swears the blonde has blue... but his train of thought is cut off as Shulk lurches upwards in the bed, scaring Sonic half to death. The blonde seizes his wrist, which makes the hedgehog yelp in pain, as if his fur is being scorched by fire. He is wrenched closer into the Monado wielder's line of vision, irises and pupils still a burning, passionate purple.

"Samus!" Shulk roars. "Where's Samus? I must speak with her!"

* * *

 **Ta-da! There we are ladies and gentlemen, that was Chapter #11: Communication, of Brinstar Depths. Wow, a long chapter that once again took a day to write (about five hours, I think, on and off), and good lord it's the longest chapter of the story! This is like Syrenet word-count for chapters, I tell ya! But wow, a lot has happened indeed, and a lot to dwell on. I must say that I absolutely love Samus and Will in this story, they interact so blissfully and beautifully in my opinion, and I think they're what make this piece. Their conversation in the car has to be in my top ten dialogue bits I've ever written, and there's still so much more to go through. Samus can fight (as we already know), she realizes something may have been watching her, Will is taking her on a date and they talked about a few impertinent things, and Shulk has awoken! Yes, he's been through a lot, and yes, he still has a part in the story! It's a lot to happen in such an expanse of words. Please review! I'd love to know what you thought! I will probably, just like today, post Chapter #12: Hallucination, sometime next week, and it might be in the same stratosphere of words. I love you all so much! Have a great day! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	12. Chapter 12: Hallucination

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #12: Hallucination. Last chapter was long, the longest it's ever been, and there was hella things going on. Samus got invited to a dinner date by Will, she felt like she was being watched, the two argued a bit about telling the others on the portal, and Shulk awoke from his coma after being injured by Samus's missile that came from her Power Suit. We are only six chapters away from the end of this story, and that's an unbelievable feeling, I'll tell you, because I've really enjoyed writing this piece over the past year. Thank you to Metroid-Killer for reviewing, as you've become my steadfast reviewer of pretty much all my writing for awhile now. Enjoy Chapter #12: Hallucination, of Brinstar Depths, where things may happen out of chronological order.**

* * *

 _"Not all light is good. There is negative light, that can cast bad shadows." ~ Anthony Liccione_

It is late when Samus and Will stumbled back into the former's bedroom, almost around 2:30 in the morning, where no light is shining through the windows. All that comes through is the darkening sky, but it is a sharp paradox to the literal joy and bubbliness going in with the two inebriated souls. Yes, Will knows it is against the law to drive drunk. Yes, he knows he did it. Yes, he knows he could get in trouble. And yes, he does not care.

Samus drops her dorm room key five times before she's able to properly situate it into the keyhole, twisting and turning the metallic piece so hard it digs into her skin. She cusses while doing it, but then again, she's had so much to drink that she won't remember it in the morning. Will is gently pushing up against her back with his side, trying to have her hurry up, but all it is doing is causing her to lose her grip. After trying for another fifteen minutes - yes, he counted how long it took - Samus finally manages to snag the right combination, and her door opens. The two slip inside, and he slams the door after him.

Though they go scrambling for opposite sides of the room, Samus collapses on her bed right near the foot of it, with Will laughing still as he spins into a heap on the carpeted floor over by the bathroom. There isn't anything particularly funny going on between them yet a presence of pure joy hangs in the air, unable to stop rooting skin deep. She stretches her limbs out, loving the feeling of the skin expanding, her muscles pushing, and her bones cracking. An elixir of freedom, to spread your wings, and Samus wishes she could feel like this all day, every day, for the rest of her life.

Looking back, with hindsight, the bounty hunter is not so sure how much of this actually came from her drunkenness, and actually had been her standing on a soapbox telling what she believed in her heart. Samus rubs her eyes, rolling over so she's lying on her stomach, arms dangling off the other side of the bed, staring at Will. She hasn't taken a lot of time to think about it, but he is extremely handsome. Yes, she has the rule to not be focused on dating and relationships in the mansion, given the track record that only Mario and Peach as well as Link and Zelda were the only two couples to ever stay together once they had gotten together.

Could that be her and Will? She's entertained the idea once or twice while training, punching poor Sandbag's face in, because it's really the only time she dwells in the moment to think. Any other time is as if she's filling it with drivel matters. Is her heart and a possible future with someone a drivel matter, at the bottom line?

Samus kicks one of her legs behind her, her heels still on her feet. "You having fun down there?"

"The-" he groans back, struggling to sit on his elbows. "The greatest of times. You?"

"It's much better than staying here all the time."

"How many drinks did you have tonight? I don't think Master Hand will be happy when he sees the bill."

She shrugs her shoulders. Samus cannot remember the last time she felt this... free... where she felt this happy and all the tension leaves her shoulders. It's always been a rigid schedule of training and fighting, training and fighting, and the loop goes on and on, never stopping. How does something like that ever transform into something more? She's never really had an answer for that, but she digresses on her soapbox. Perhaps going on dates and taking a few glasses of Chardon helps relieve all the stress going on in her life, where now she's giggling like a little schoolgirl with a crush.

Technically, Samus Aran already _has_ the crush aspect down.

"I think I lost count after three..." she says. "It's no more than four, though."

Three or four drinks, while a lot, and Samus will give herself that, she's always suffered from being a lightweight. Alcohol normally is not in her system, and with there being children in the Mansion itself under the brawling rules, whenever there are gatherings, the adults do not get the chance _to_ drink as the items are usually not on the premises. If an adult, so of course, anyone over twenty-one, wants to get a drink, they have to go elsewhere.

Samus has only been outside of the Mansion for drinks once, and it had been with Snake way too long ago. It must've been the very first time the two had spoken to each other and a serious, mutual understanding sort of level, a level Samus did not have with anyone up until that point in the Mansion. She and Zelda often had philosophical conversations, but that had been because the Queen of Hyrule _is_ a philosophe in her own right, with the Triforce of Wisdom, after all. However, this time, it is not Zelda, who has seen her own horrors, Samus will admit, but it is Snake, an agent who does suffer from his definitely defined own demons. The two understand each other on a mutual level, and there's been glimpses of true friendship flashing between them every once and awhile.

 _"How long have you had nightmares?" she asks, her hand around her own glass of gin and tonic, but she does not lift it to her lips to take a drink. She's getting used to the fact she left the Mansion after ten years for some sort of adult occasion._

 _Snake tosses back his bottle of beer, the amber liquid vanishing behind his lips and down his throat. "I've always had them. You?"_

 _"Ever since I lost my parents."_

 _"Oh? To what? Smallpox?"_

 _Samus's eyes flash a terrible color, her expression grim. "A winged beast named Ridley. I've killed him over and over again but he still keeps coming back..." she presses a fist into the table._

 _The Metal Gear agent furrows his eyebrows together. "Keeps coming back? Like... in your dreams, he's a reoccurring thing?"_

 _"No," her throat locks up. "Literally. He's revived constantly, and I have to fight him all over again out there," she gesticulates upwards, meaning the stars, meaning planets and galaxies that the espionage soldier could only ever dream of, in his own nightmares perhaps._

 _He presses a warm hand against her shoulder. "It'll be okay. As long as you're here, that Ridley can't come and get you. You're safe on Earth, Samus."_

She wonders why she never went drinking with Snake since then. The two had been close, closer than Mario and Luigi, and the two of them were brothers who both had each others' backs beyond measure, a love built by years and years of sibling rivalry and adoration for one another. Samus narrows it down to the fact that Snake felt too familiar in the end. She sees him and she's reminded of the hours, the countless years spent alone in space, a rugged shell of herself, with a suit that echoes her thoughts. Someone too far gone from the grasp of humanity to be saved, and so she stops going out with him to places, for she knows where their conversations would turn. It is not in her anymore to have those nights.

It's why she snaps at Will, when he gets to close for comfort. It's why she turns him away and tries so hard to be angry, but she knows deep down, her pathetic ability at being furious for someone talking about her experiences is the way she's going to be forced to step out of them. To move on, but Samus likes where she is. She doesn't _want_ to move on and attempt something else, attempt to try and have open discussions.

To forgive R.O.B, if the robot itself is even forgivable for what it's done to not just her, but most of the other Smashers during the Emissary. Is it something she can do? Samus isn't quite so sure.

"Thank you, Will, for tonight," she says, all of a sudden.

He gives her a smile, a smile that she loves. It's one of those smiles where it is effortless, and the expression speaks for itself without the movement, how his teeth do not clench downwards together, and she's in paradise. "You're welcome, Samus. It looked like you really needed it."

"Trust me, I did."

She's starting to get a headache, and she's heard Captain Falcon describe them before, as being the headaches 'virgin drinkers' - the term comes from the F-Zero racer, not her, she has to point out - after having four drinks. Will had five beers, so his headache must be worse than hers. Samus flips over to lay on her back, placing her arms underneath her head so her elbows are winged out.

She has her gaze directed up at the ceiling of her bedroom, to stare at the etched designs in the white plaster. There's nothing in particular to see with the designs, as she always finds them to look more like spread out water droplets. All Samus does it lay there, as Will does in his heap of flesh on the floor, enjoying each other's company, not saying a word, as the clock ticks and tocks over in the corner.

At one point, he gets up from his position, probably having gotten cramped, and goes to lay next to her, his head at her feet and visa versa. She feels the comforter indent, sliding her off some closer to the floor, as if she is falling off a cliff. Samus cannot say that she's ever been dangling off a cliffside before and she can't very well say it's something she's ever in the mood to 'try' out.

Words rest on her tongue, sentences she wishes to say, yet Samus does not say them. She does not know what they are, truth be told, the reasons as to what is keeping her silent. Here she is, laying side-by-side with a man, a close friend of hers for a few years now, and he's done this incredibly sweet gesture of romanticism to her, and yet her mind goes scattered elsewhere, focusing on Subspace, the portals, Shulk... anyone other than the present situation right next to her. It disappoints her. What is she supposed to do when her own inhibitions keep her back?

Luckily, for Samus Aran, she doesn't have to do fret at all.

"Do you know anything about me?" he asks, out of the blue.

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

He shifts his arms downwards some, shrugging. "I dunno... just... backstory?"

Samus turns her head downwards so she can look at him. His gaze is upwards at the ceiling like hers had been, except he does not bring his gaze to match hers. Given by the tone of his voice, which had no playful side to it at all, and his mannerisms, she assumes he's being entirely, one hundred percent serious. She frowns once more. What exactly does she know about him? "Well... I know your name is Will Forrest... and you have a sister named Wanda. You live in Brooklyn, New York, and you're both personal trainers who were invited to fight here. All of that right?"

"Yeah," Will nods, flashing a smile, but this time, it is not one that is effortless, it is a sham, a farce, a grimace hiding behind a 'grin'. "You're right on all of those."

She props herself to one elbow, leaning in somewhat, tucking her legs underneath her. "Something the matter?"

He shakes his head. "No, not at all."

"Will..." Samus lowers her head some, her eyes darkening some, an expression that reads, _'Don't play me right now'_.

The brunette shrugs again, shifting his gaze into one of her pillows. "I honestly don't know Samus..." he sighs, exasperated. "While we were eating dinner tonight, I got to thinking about everything you had ever done, y'know?" Samus nods. That had been one of the discussions at dinner, being all of her galactic adventures and conquests, some told in great detail with vividness in her movement, others darker and more subdued. "Growing up, I learned everything about every _single_ one of you in this Mansion. Mario, Link, Kirby... you name it," his eyes reflect a certain sadness, as if he's looking back over that time, but it isn't nostalgic, but melancholic. "I singled you out because of course, you were the only woman."

"There was Jigglypuff," she reminds him.

"Does she honestly count? I was not going to be obsessed with a Pokemon," Will retorts playfully.

"No, I guess you're right."

"Anyways," he continues, "I learned all I could about the famed twelve. Y'all were immortalized."

"I know..."

"I mean... think about it. What are Wanda and I?" Will asks. "We're just athletes. We're just a brother and sister, twins from Brooklynn, who managed to have the right client in our personal fitness program. We are made to sponsor some video game about fitness, and voila..." he cracks a weak smile, "Here we are..." the brunette sighs. "All Wanda and I are... we're just Olympic-like athletes. None of my powers in the arena come from me. I'm not a goddess or a ninja frog that can shoot water from my hands. I have to use inflatable soccer balls and hula hoops as my attacking method!" Will clenches his hands into a fist. "I mean... just look at the swordsmen and how talented they are. Or... or Lucario, with his aura!" his gaze flits down for a second, locking eyes with her. "And... and you, the intergalactic bounty hunter, Samus Aran, who has fought and killed purple dragons and saved planets and rescued entire species..."

Samus sits up directly with him, face-to-face. "Are you saying that you're jealous of me?"

He cracks another smile. "It's kind of hard to be. I'm just a guy from Brooklynn... and you're... you're a superstar, Samus," Will says. "I know for a fact that Wanda is jealous of you."

"Your sister is not jealous of me."

"If I am, then she is too," he points back.

Something crawls on her arms, starting to itch. It is an uncomfortable feeling, that Samus is not liking where this conversation is heading, and she wants it go somewhere else. Being in a competitive world like the Mansion, with the original twelve, then Melee, Brawl... she's dealt with jealousy, but when it's coming from someone she's close with... when it's coming from _Will,_ then it's a whole different story. "Can we talk about something else?"

Will takes a deep breath. "Why are you so perfect Samus?" he shouts. "Why is the world so cruel? Why do I have to be this normal guy, and why do _I_ have to be in love with a perfect person!" the athlete screams at her. Though he is not yelling at _at_ her, he's yelling in her general direction, with her being the topic of discussion. He puts his face in his hands, curling up slightly, starting to cry. His frame shakes with the occasional sob, shuddering some as he does this.

She's taken aback by this outburst of emotion, and it is not where she expected the conversation to go. Samus would have never guessed that Will, Will Forrest, would struggle from identity and confidence issues, given his bravado. Another doozy is his word choice. He called her perfect, and there's never been another moment in time where Samus has wanted to refute such a ridiculous claim.

 _He said he loved her. Not only did he admit it, he admitted to her. To her face._

The headache from the alcohol is starting to come into play.

Samus takes a deep breath. Will is crying on her bed, near about in her arms, and there's nothing she can do.

Well, there is one thing...

She takes another deep breath. The bounty hunter cannot believe she is going to do what she is going to do.

Lifting his head up, which reveals Will's puffy scarlet face, with tears streaming clear down them, she presses her lips to his in a kiss.

It catches him entirely off guard, a sob catching in his throat. She pushes against him slightly, Will turning himself out so now he's resting against the headboard of the bed. His lips taste like all his bottles of beer, a smokiness to it that lingers. Samus has kissed men before, she's dated them... but never past that. She might as well be pitching a baseball blind. Will stutters some, running a hand through her hair.

This is not the alcohol speaking to them.

When they break apart, the two shifted downwards more, Will lying flat on his back, Samus above him, her hands on either side of his head. They're both out of breath, starting to sweat, their faces flushed a brilliant beating red with excitement, energy, adrenaline, and passion. Tears still remain on Will's face, but he has stopped crying, the whites of his eyes a pained now a darkening shade of cardinal, with his veins blending in to the sea of red.

Samus is surprised to have made it this far.

"I... I just wanted you to stop crying," she says, after a stasis of silence passes between them. Will stays quiet, just looking up. She's gorgeous, perhaps - _no,_ the most gorgeous person he's ever met, and she's here with him, kissing him, in he bedroom - it is a dream come true. "Do you know what you're doing?" Samus asks.

"No, I- I don't," he swallows heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes. Will licks his lips. "Do you?"

"I've never been a good actress," Samus admits.

"Good to know," Will grins.

He leans upwards to kiss her again.

Samus, with her eyes closed, with him at her lips, flicks her heels off to the floor.

* * *

Sometimes all Wanda wants to do is jump into a man's mind and see what is going on inside their head, specifically her brother's. Although their habits are quite weird, given that the two are inseparable and have been by each other's sides every single year of their life, to the two of them, their habits are fine. Back in New York, with their fitness training center being open extensively throughout the year, and having tons of clients, there is never an off day for the Forrest siblings. The two have to be in tiptop shape, ahead of the ballgame by nine plays at least, and that means exercising like crazy. Moving to the Mansion has not broken tradition, and with an approval by Master Hand, the siblings Will and Wanda Forrest go running every day at exactly midnight. Around the mansion in two laps, which only takes them about an hour, then back to bed they go, sleep until 8:30 in the morning, and go for a half run around the mansion, counting as a full lap, then the rest of their normal day takes off.

It is why, as the two, even when going through general sibling issues like fights and estranged periods, never miss a midnight morning run, that she finds it odd that it's been ten minutes outside Will's door and he has not picked up his cell phone, or answered her knocks on the door. He certainly would not be asleep, Wanda believes that he knows better than just hitting some sort of snooze button. He's always up, _always_ up. Is this some kind of joke?

Wanda pinches the bridge of her nose, starting to get exasperated. "Will? Are you even in there?" she knocks on the door one more time, perhaps with a stronger force than that what is constituted as simple knocking, and his door swings open. She steps back, slightly surprised, as she had been, with persistent try, pushing the door open slightly away from the lock. She steps into his bedroom, perhaps a terrible thing to do on the off chance she sees something she is not ready to see.

She frowns. His bed is made neatly, all the pillows in the right place, none of his running sneakers missing in case he did the run solo. There's no note left on the desk or bathroom mirror, or anything. Wanda furrows her eyebrows together. This is totally not unusual behavior. None of his tracksuits are missing, nothing fitness wear appropriate... he's nowhere to be found in his dorm. Where could her brother be?

The first place that comes to mind is Samus's room, which boils her blood slightly, but she lets the feeling slide. Samus Aran broods bad news, but it is not her place to anymore to make 'big sister' decisions, even though she had never been the 'big sister', since the two are twins. Something about the blonde bounty hunter potentially having amaranthine shadow demons follow her everywhere and antagonize her friends did not exactly sound like a fun, family activity. Yet, here it is consuming her brother's every waking thought. Wanda just wants to be normal, is all, she guesses... yet living in a Mansion, fighting for others' entertainment, with talking monkeys and gods from other realms does not exactly speak normal.

It is evident that her brother is not in his room. Wanda steps back into the center of his open doorway, closing it back for him in case he had wandered back, wondering who entered his room. Perhaps they were in Samus's...? She takes a look at her watch. It is exactly 12:15, and he has not responded back to her phone calls or text messages or anything. Talk about being left hanging.

Wanda crosses the main hallway of the mansion, the men having a wing on their side of the building, and the women having an actually even larger wing to their area. There's less female Smashers, but the same exact sized space, meaning the ladies had even larger suites to their name. For a year, Master Hand had tried co-ed, but it never really latched on that multiple groups of people all from not one entirely homogenous background could not live together harmoniously and expect things to turn out okay. The Mansion is in jeopardy at least five times that year from burning down to the ground, and so Master Hand has it remain that each Smasher, and there sure are plenty of them, gets their own room.

Samus's room is locked, when Wanda reaches it, knowing it's the bounty hunter's by the chrome plate on the center of the white door. It is not a good idea to bash her door down. Wanda knocks gently, waiting a few seconds. "Samus? Are you in there?" Nothing. She tries again. "Samus?" It's been a minute now, of Wanda standing out there. If Samus had to be sleeping, which is not likely, since the blonde has been known to stay up stretching in her room, she must've been awaken by then. The athlete trainer stomps the foot in frustration.

Talk about it being a mystery.

There's only one other place she could consider looking. Wanda makes her way back to the male side of the dorms, walking down the long, snaking hallways. She passes by Marth, Roy, Corrin(M), Robin(M), Ike, Link... all the swordsmen wanted their rooms right next to each other, and she finds that entirely way too typical, before ending up right where she wanted to be.

Sonic's name is written slightly different, his letters on his chrome plating being slanted slightly, as if they were running like the hedgehog is known for. She lifts a fist up to the door and knocks.

Luckily for her, it is already open, and luckier so, there is Sonic sitting down in a beanbag chair in the corner of the room, watching some sort of movie. He looks up at Wanda, smiling hugely when he sees her.

"Oh, good evening Wanda! Did you want to watch a movie?" There is a bowl of cheese puffs sitting in his lap, causing Wanda to raise an eyebrow. That has to be entirely unhealthy, given their state of fat, carbs, the sodium, and sugar. She shudders thinking about it, as it looks like the azure hedgehog is eating the entire bag's worth in the bowl.

"There aren't any better snacks?" she asks.

Sonic frowns, looking down at his bowl. When his gaze passes back up at her, he hugs the bowl a bit tighter to his body. "I get cravings too..."

It hits Wanda right then and there that she is being utterly ridiculous. Sonic, given the speed he runs at, could burn calories so fast it is almost laughable, while she has to diet and watch what she eats, and exercise so often that it can be viewed as an obsession. His metabolism, however, may be the speed of light for all she knows. It brings her to the fact, that if she made another comment on his eating habits, it'd stray from the entire reason why she came into his room in the first place. "Regardless... I can't find my brother. He's not in his room, and he's not in Samus's. Normally he and I go for our-"

"Your midnight run," he finishes for her. "Yeah. I know. I've always wanted to go running with you all, but then I'd feel bad," Sonic shrugs. "I don't know how to run intentionally slow," and he takes another handful of cheese puffs. Wanda shudders again, listening to him chomp. He licks the dust off of his fingertips. "Huh... he still hasn't gotten back yet..." Sonic says.

Wanda furrows her eyebrows together. "Gotten back from what?"

The hedgehog widens his eyes, frowning. "He didn't tell you?" there's a silence, indicating, that no, Will Forrest did not share details of his evening with his sister. "He invited Samus out to dinner."

This is the very first time she ever hears of this occurring. Wanda feels like she's been sucker punched. "He asked her out on a date? When?"

"He's been planning it for a few weeks."

"He never told me..." Wanda crosses her arms.

"Does he normally?" Sonic asks.

"We're siblings. We're twins. We tell each other everything."

"Not everything..." he says slowly.

Wanda rolls her eyes. "Apparently," then, a sigh. "Any idea what time they might be back?"

Sonic shrugs. "Trust me, I do not know that. They did go out to one of those restaurants downtown in Seattle, so the drive will at least be an hour. They left at seven."

The athlete taps her foot on his carpet, biting on the inside of her cheek. Okay, so now there's a second thing her brother hid from her, without a rhyme or reason. She can understand the whole thing with the purple creatures and portals, since, of course, it being Wanda, and the matter concerning her brother, she'd be worried. She knows now, and will have to swallow her pride eventually, that she had thought too much into it when there hadn't been anything wrong with Will. However, she cannot excuse the fact that she had no idea Will had been planning on going on a date; her brother's last date is before the two were invited to the Mansion, and he and his date nearly got mugged before Will had fought them off. Her brother is probably on the date with Samus, eating at some sit-down restaurant, drinking, at midnight, messing it all up. Great.

She is not just going to sit around and eat cheese puffs waiting for him to get back. He is not going to want to run after having his premium date.

"Well," Wanda says, throwing a hand up in the air. "I have no idea what to do now. I normally don't run by myself."

Sonic takes another bite of his snack, sitting up in the beanbag chair excitedly. "I know what you can do!" she turns her attention back to the hedgehog. "Shulk awoke earlier!"

She widens her eyes, and for a brief second, her heart soars. "What? He did? When?"

The hedgehog sets his snack bowl down next to him. "Around 10:30. I sat with him for a bit afterwards, just talking, Dr. Mario came in to check on him, and I left to come here. He's probably still awake, eating something. You should go down and see him!"

It would give her something to do, take advantage of her morning hours. The hospital wing never closes, truth be told. Dr. Mario may not be present all the time while he's sleeping or brawling too, but it is always open, and Wanda can go visit any time. She resumes biting down on her cheek, taking a quick glance at the television screen. "What are you watching?"

Sonic puts the snack bowl back into his lap. "Some rom-com. I'm sorry, but you humans make some really stupid movies..." he guffaws.

Wanda cracks a smile. Yes, he is correct, Hollywood is not always filled full of blockbuster paragon-like films, but she sometimes goes and sees them anyways. She rocks back on her heels. "Well, enjoy, and please, next time, pick a better snack. I'm going to go see Shulk," she says, turning around to leave. Sonic waves a hand goodbye to her, as she passes around the corner, she catches a glimpse of his wrist, causing her to stop. His fur seems slightly discolored, almost black, as if it had been burned. Wanda peeks her head through the doorway again. "Hey, Sonic?"

He looks back at her. "Yeah?"

"What happened to your wrist? Are you okay?"

The hedgehog looks down, pausing for a second. "It's nothing. Just a burn."

"How'd you get it?"

"It's nothing, Wanda," Sonic reassures her.

She raises an eyebrow. It looks different than any sort of burn she's ever seen before. Part of the discoloration looks... purple. Purple... like the portal? "You sure?"

"I'm sure," he nods.

Wanda nods back, not buying it, but she is not going to press the issue. "Alrighty. Good night Sonic, see you in the morning."

This time, she takes her leave from his room, not noticing that this time, as she goes, Sonic gets up from his beanbag chair, slamming his door shut and locking it, taking another look at his burnt wrist, which had been from Shulk's fiery iron-like grip, before sitting back down and resuming his movie. Wanda whistles to herself as she walks, smiling.

She's glad to know that Shulk is awake. Wanda has been worried sick with him, due to Samus's Power Suit malfunctioning. It's only been a couple of days, but the last few days have left her on an edge that is scary enough to make her want to turn around and run for the hills. However, Wanda Forrest is not a coward, and is not going to hide. She is going to stay put and defend her new home and her new friends should anything go wrong.

The hospital wing has the perfunctory smell of needles and latex gloves, a traditional medicinal smell, and after it, the strong pungent of alcohol wipes. Dr. Mario is at the front desk, who waves at her warmly when she enters. He is probably filling in records, a secretary position, and Wanda is glad she has never been asked to fill in. She hates numbers; Wanda avoids them like the plague. She finds Shulk's room, Room #131, liking the oddness to it, the door already partially ajar, the lights on.

Wanda does not expect to be horrified when she walks in.

"Shulk!" she screams. The blonde swordsman in question is laying upright in his bed, deadlocked into a seizure. Wanda does not know how else to describe it, as his body is shaking uncontrollably, his legs kicking out, the blanket on him falling to the floor. His arms are in a vibrating position, slightly elevated from flatness. She races into the room, grabbing him by the shoulders, heat coming off of him in spades. His hair is soaked with sweat, his eyes rolled back into his head. "Shulk!" Wanda yells again, before turning her head. "Dr. Mario! Dr. Mario, I think Shulk is having a seizure!"

She feels helpless. What... what is going on? The sound of someone - Dr. Mario - rushing back from the chair at the desk, with his boots slamming onto the tile as he runs, fills the hall as her echo dissipates. Wanda brings her attention back to Shulk, who is starting to shake a bit more violently, his back arching off the bed frame. She's about to scream for help again, as Dr. Mario crosses the threshold into the hospital room, Shulk's arms landing on her with the force of a Mach truck.

Wanda can feel tears streaming down her face, and as the blonde's body crashes into hers, Shulk's eyes snap open, filled with a normal, blue diamond color, his shaking stopping. He slumps up against Wanda, starting to sob. Dr. Mario steps into the room nervously, his hand gently resting against the alert button which would alarm Master Hand's office, since a seizure or heart attack or anything more medically serious would elucidate a help even he cannot perform, as Dr. Mario is no magician. Shulk is crying in Wanda's arms, his frame racking with shudders and gasps.

"Wanda..." Shulk sobs, gripping her arms tight. Her breathing starts returning to normal, as she cradles him. She does not know where the motherly stance has suddenly come from, since she's only about ten years older, but it is enough to make her worry. "Wanda..." he cries again.

"Shhh..." she soothes him, rubbing his head. "Are you okay?" Wanda asks, pushing him back some to look into his eyes. He's breathing normally, and there's no sign of any sort of problem. "What happened?"

It is an unbelievable transformation, that the blonde sitting upright had just been shaking as if he had been possessed only moments earlier, to now breathing with extensive labor, tears spilling down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, shuddering. "I- I was just sitting her, eating," he points off to the side, and there is a tray with a cup of applesauce and a plastic cup with water resting on the nightstand, "When my eyes clouded and I started- I started shaking. I put the tray down..."

"Did you not hear anything?" Wanda asks, looking up at Dr. Mario, who frowns, his face going as white as a sheet. She's expected that... the only doctor, the only _true_ doctor of the building had been unaware of one of his patients having a seizure attack. Back to Shulk, she says, "You just had a seizure. Are you okay?"

Shulk shakes his head in dissent, pressing his lips firmly together in a thin line. "I- I'm fine now..." he lowers his voice, a look of worry crossing his face. "I don't think I had a seizure. I think... I think I just got possessed..."

Her heart lumps in her throat, a slight chill passing over her arms. "Possessed? By- by what?"

He gasps in fear. "I don't know... Wanda... I don't know..." and then he bucks up somewhat. "I think I had an hallucination..."

Wanda normally does not hear that word very often, hallucination. It is a haunting word, for her, associated with her attending funerals of clients who overdosed on drugs, hallucinating they were flying when actually that had jumped off a building and landed on the sidewalk. It is someone taking too much, or having a bad acid trip, or a dream that feels entirely too real... but this, unbelievably, sounds more menacing.

"A hallucination?" she repeats. Shulk nods fearfully. "What did you see, then?"

The Monado wielder swallows heavily, his eyes staring at a distance no one else can reach, a place no can visit. "Death," he says. "Everyone in the mansion, dead. Lucina... Mario... Link... your brother... Samus... you," Wanda shudders when he mentions her brother and herself. "The mansion was on fire... and things were running everywhere..."

"Things? What things, Shulk?"

"I don't know..." he takes a shaky breath. "They were all disfigured, glowing a plethora of colors. All I know is that they wanted Samus to come with them."

"Go where?" Wanda urges, her blood turning to ice.

"The depths of Brinstar..." Shulk closes his eyes, shivering. "They called for Samus to go to the depths..." he opens his eyes, the diamond glow blackening out of terror. "We're all in danger, Wanda. Above that, so is Samus. Samus could die..."

It is a phrase Wanda could never imagine hearing. That they're all in danger.

 _Samus could die. We're all in danger._

* * *

Samus groans, shifting over in her side of the bed, hugging the sheet closer to her naked chest. Will is off on his side of her bed, snoring, being extremely annoying. Her head is killing her, but that is what is expected after drinking heavily and normally being abstinent from it your entire life. It is not an experience she wishes to try again, that's for sure. She positions herself flat, going to look back up at the ceiling. There are a million worlds out there, etched in the plaster, and Samus sees them all.

Her body is still tight, flushed with heat, the residues of his fingerprints - Will's fingerprints - in her calves, along her ribcage, her hands plaiting his spine, and Samus is an entirely different world than her own at this moment in time, her vision hazed over slightly in a warped shade of green, lust clouding her gaze. The bounty hunter looks back over at him, at Will, who is sleeping, while, yes, snoring. His hair is messy, so different from it being combed neatly and gelled, which must be messing up her sheets terribly. She brushes a curl out of the way, smiling. Goodness, he is the prettiest thing.

It is not her plan for the date having ended the way it did, but she is not complaining necessarily.

She is about to roll over again and sleep on her right side, arms pressed underneath her, when something begins vibrating. Samus snaps her eyes open in annoyance, sitting upright. On her nightstand, next to her side, is the walkie-talkie radio she had borrowed from Will, which she had used to give to Lucario to discuss the portal business on Brinstar. Afterwards, with the evening complete, she gives it to Sonic, via permission of the brunette if it is permissible, so he could get in touch with her need be. The walkie-talkie is unusual in that Samus has to accept the radio wave transmission before speaking into it for communication, as Master Hand blocks general connective devices in the Mansion for purposes that have never been fully explained.

The radio is starting to shake, the signal going unanswered. She rubs her eyes, getting out of bed, still entirely naked. It has to be Sonic, because who else would be this annoying at such a late hour?

She steps into her bathroom, shutting the door so she does not wake Will. Samus sits down on her bathroom counter, yawning. It is too early to be doing any of this whatsoever, and this better be a good reason.

Samus twists one of the dials, bringing the walkie-talkie to her ear. "Yeah?" she says sleepily.

"Samus?" Sonic's broken, static voice breaks through the chirping of the radio waves. "Is that you?"

"Yes Sonic... it's me..." she drones on. "What do you need?"

There's a second of silence, and for a second, Samus is afraid he must've left his radio on and had been pulling some sort of prank on her, which she's expecting at this point, truth be told. "I need you to join me on the Brinstar stage. Right. Now. Samus..." the hedgehog orders, his voice quite militaristic.

Samus furrows her eyebrows together, sticking her head out of the bathroom door to read her analog clock. The digital emerald lines spell out 4:30 A.M, and here Sonic is asking her to get dressed with a few extra hours of sleep left to go to Brinstar? What would doing this at such an outrageous hour merit for instead of doing it later. She steps back into the bathroom, picking the radio back up. "Are you out of your mind?" she hisses. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Samus, please," Sonic whines, and she's never heard him so desperate. Yes, it has been said that the hedgehog can be a bit cocky, yet she has never seen that side of him, he's always been a sweetheart. Even in that foretold 'cockiness', he's always been polite, happy, cheerful, and full of understanding. Nothing like the mewl that just came from the other end, wherever Sonic may be, a pitiful plea, where a voice crack follows it. "We need to talk, and we need to talk now. Please, get to the stage..."

"Okay... okay..." she overrides him, speaking hurriedly over his plea. Samus rubs her eyes again. "Where are you now?"

"Already on the stage."

Samus checks the clock again, stepping out into the bedroom, Will still sound asleep. It is still extremely early in the morning, the sky still dark out, and there's not going to be sunlight for another two hours minimum. "I'll be there... just give me a minute." she does not wait for his response, instead placing the walkie-talkie down on the ground. The cold chill is starting to get to her exposed body, as she's getting dressed, jumping in another sleek tracksuit, pulling her back into a ponytail. The headache is persisting, and Samus vows to never, _ever_ drink again.

The bounty hunter dresses as quickly as her inebriation can allow her, plus allotting for her soreness. Samus is surprised to know that she's not walking tipsy or swayed, despite consuming for alcohol than she's ever been used to, which is a very good thing. She goes to step out of the door when Will stirs, simply shifting over some. She pauses, looking back at the athlete. Getting back in bed does sound nice, and she's tempted to, with the craving pulling at her fingertips to wrap her arms around Will. However, Sonic specifically calls her this early in the morning for a reason, and by the tone of his voice, she's not going to let him down. She already let Shulk down; Samus is not going to make the same mistakes.

She gently opens and shuts her bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway. It is eerily quiet, her side of the building, all the other ladies asleep. No one in the mansion gets up before six in the morning, either, which is including Master Hand. The Waddle Dee's do not start cooking the breakfast buffet until around seven, since all the Smashers are officially up no later than nine, circumstances pending. She will not get in trouble if some official finds her roaming the halls, unless she is extremely, _extremely_ intoxicated, which, to be frank, she's unsure about, walking the halls naked, performing arson, murder, or theft, and that's pretty much it.

The walk to the Brinstar stage is on the other side of the Mansion, outside of the main arena for the general matches, and if the match has a specific set of instructions determined on where the fans wish the Smashers fight, then the special stages are used. Samus frowns to herself, wondering exactly why Sonic needs to speak to her so urgently. It must, given the location, deal with the whole Depths mess and predicament. Her blood runs cold.

Has something happened to another Smasher?

Did someone else get terrorized while she is out with Will, eating Italian food?

Another weapons malfunction?

The possibilities are essentially endless, but yet they still fit in one small scheme of things.

Samus crosses the threshold from the living quarters to the business side of the Mansion, evident by the switch from a more laid-back, royalty maroon colored carpet, to a swathe and chic black and gold pattern that crosses over each other like a diamond shaped coordinate grid. She realizes that she never put shoes on, her feet touching the odd spots of cold and warm carpet given their location in proximity to the air conditioning units.

The blonde passes by multiple stages, which, are oddly enough, not in alphabetical order. They are all locked behind silver doors, futuristic and sci-fi like, with hatches that divide in half, sliding inwards, and behind the door, a glass panel that brings the stage to life, as if it had not been there before. The stages are accessible at any time, which is why it is odd that most of the troublemaking Smashers of the bunch, generally the swordsmen or children, do not go in late at night and wreak havoc. It is rather ironic, that the bounty hunter, Samus Aran, is the one 'sneaking' onto other Mansion property, given that she does not own anything in the building except what is in her room, for her usually being a stickler for the rules.

She reaches the Brinstar stage door, stopping right in front of it. Samus reaches behind her back to pat the radio she clipped to her pants, except all she presses against is her tracksuit, with nothing there. The bounty hunter frowns, turning to look. The radio is not there. She must've never picked it back up when she left the room, after Sonic's plea. She stomps her foot on the carpet. Dammit, there's always another thing. Is she supposed to go back and get it? Yes, Samus knows she's standing right in front of the stage, but having the radio with her, with all that's been happening... it feels relaxing, a comfort of sorts.

Deciding that Sonic could wait a few more moments, she turns to leave, when a muffled noise causes her to stop. Samus freezes, turning around to look at the Brinstar door. It had definitely come from the other side... almost sounding... human? She cannot quite tell. The bounty hunter's heartbeat begins to pick up. What would that have been? The noise comes again, this time more definite, and much louder than the first.

It's Sonic's voice.

"Samus!" Sonic screams, and this is a scream filled with pure terror. "Samus, help me!"

She widens her eyes, launching for the door. Whilst the stages may be open at all times during the day and night, open for any Smasher to use, they must be accessed by a six digit number code which is individualistic for all the stages that have ever been created or used for the Mansion's purpose. Samus dials the code in faster than anything she has ever used her fingers for in her life, the door parting wags for her. Samus rushes inside.

"Sonic!" she yells, her voice echoing off the pink flesh-like walls. Nothing comes back to her except the echo and the stage gurgling around her.

There's no sign of Sonic. There's no blue fur, he is not running around the walls... there's no remnant of his shattered cry to be heard. Samus takes a deep breath. She swears, _she swears_ that she heard his voice calling out her name, in terror, for help behind the stage door. She swears he had just called her to meet her on this stage, calling at 4:30 in the morning, and yet he's not here. Is this a trick? Has Samus misremembered something and is so drunk that she cannot, for the life of her, recall the correct events? Sonic would not pull a fast one on her.

She has to say, if this is a prank, it is damn good at that.

"Sonic! Are you here?" Samus calls out again, rounding one of the stage's platforms.

She stops dead in the center of one of the raised ones, something catching her eye on a platform down below her. A glint of color too bright, too cheerful, too poppy to the eyes that is the muted pink, shallow gray, or lava underneath. Samus braces for a slight impact, not being in the mode where brawling does not cause actual damage depending on falling from heights.

The blonde lands ceremoniously on her feet, righting herself closer to the object or color she had seen.

It's a pair of shoes.

Her heart lumps in her throat. No- no way- that couldn't be...

They're Sonic's running shoes, the laces all undone.

The color glint she had seen is the bright ruby red of the sneaker, a trademark color she always recognizes.

Sonic is nowhere to be found.

Samus twists her head around the stage, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Sonic?" she yells again. "Sonic?" No response. "SONIC!"

Sonic the Hedgehog has vanished from the Brinstar stage.

* * *

 **This, ladies and gentlemen, was Chapter #12: Hallucination, of Brinstar Depths, and might I say, hot damn this was explosive. This is perhaps my favorite chapter that I have ever written for this piece, truth be told, as there was so much to go off with this. There's a lot to cover, so let's go scene by scene. Firstly, Will and Samus have now officially kissed, they've made love, and he is extremely insecure... a character trait that I hadn't originally intended on giving him, but I love having complex characters, and Will Forrest, for being an offset of the Wii Fit Trainer, is definitely complex... ish.**

 **Secondly, Wanda is absolutely crazy since the Forrest siblings run at midnight around the mansion. She can cope with her feelings a bit more, and now is involved way too deeply into this whole mess concerning Shulk, and at large, the Depths. He is finally, finally awake... and with that hallucination that I have been dying to present, he's seen a possible glimpse of the future... with everyone dead. Who did he leave out of his listing of names he saw, hmm? What does this mean going forward?**

 **And of course, thirdly, have to bring it up, Sonic's disappearance and awkward behavior. I don't know how, truth be told, I'd react with Shulk waking up like that the way the hedgehog witnessed it. What do you think he wanted to discuss with Samus on Brinstar, what happened to him, and where do you think he went? The mystery tightens.**

 **This story is so close to completion, just six chapters away from the end, which is Chapter #18. I liked how I wrote this, where I took one section every day, instead of writing it all in one sitting, which hurts. I cannot wait for the next chapter, Chapter #13: Superstition. It'll again, probably be sometime next week, maybe another Wednesday update, but who knows. Please review! I'd love to read all your guesses to my questions. Have an amazing day! Love you all! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	13. Chapter 13: Superstition

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #13: Superstition. Goodness, we are so close to the end I can almost taste it, and I am really excited about it too! Last chapter was another long 8k one, where Samus and Will did the dirty and he revealed a bit about his insecurities, Wanda found Shulk having a hallucination, and Sonic has gone missing. The mystery thickens and hoo boy we're getting there. A customary thank you to Metroid-Killer and Maxcy Leland for reviewing, it's always appreciated! Enjoy Chapter #13: Superstition.**

* * *

 _"Rationalization is a process of not perceiving reality, but of attempting to make reality fit one's emotions. Superstition is affirming those motions." ~ Ayn Rand_

The dredges of the lust filled, alcohol filled morning still pull at Samus's skin. She wipes away the slumber from her eyes, yawning all the while stretching. It's about ten in the morning, not necessarily early, but just a tick away from noon to feel too late, and there may have been a cup of coffee or two tossed around in her system beforehand to try and get the motors up and running. There's a general group, the same amassed in front of the bookshelf a few nights prior now standing in front of her while she's sitting up on a stage, the Smashers occupying one of the Mansion's many ballrooms.

Samus does a headcount.

 _Will, Wanda, Lucario, Lucina, Mario... and myself._

She almost adds Sonic to that group, before her heart sinks. It's the whole reason they're here. Samus does not know what to do after standing on Brinstar for a good forty minutes just shouting the hedgehog's name. Eventually, _eventually_ something would come up, but she's left empty handed. The amaranthine blob below in the lava sea swirls and swirls, but there's nothing telltale in it that would give a clue where Sonic is. Samus runs around the Mansion, still sporting her killer headache and sore muscles, looking for the Green Zone denizen, coming up emptyhanded. He's indeed vanished off the face of the Earth - well, more so the Mansion grounds, but regardless, any sane place she'd consider to look - and her run leaves her winded.

All the energy is sucked out of her when she returns back to her dorm room with Will still snoozing away, snoring, actually, and when her head hits the pillow at 5:15 AM, she isn't woken up until 9:45 by Will's gentle voice and a squeeze on the shoulders. She wants to think it's a dream, that she had just been dreaming all of this and that the hedgehog is there, but there's nothing. His room is empty, the TV off, a bowl of Cheetos sitting next to a beanbag chair, feeling devoid of life, a feeling that sends chills down the blonde's spine.

Samus brings the shoes -it's cold, she realizes, by not giving possession to the item, that it makes it seem like the owner is forever gone - well... they're Sonic's shoes, back into her room, leaving them in the bathroom in the shower where no one would bother to look for them. What is she supposed to do with them? She tries wracking her brain for an event in the past she could draw comparisons to, but Samus comes short; nothing is even close to a ghost call at four in the morning with violet demons chasing your every move. She decides when she's pouring sugar into her second cup of coffee that she'll bring them to Master Hand the first chance she gets, the omniscient ruler of the Mansion heading out of town for Nintendo business, which effectively leaves the original twelve in charge.

It's what happens around twice a year. Master Hand goes away for professional matters, leaving Mario, and then to an extent, Donkey Kong, Link, Kirby, Pikachu, Yoshi, Fox, Luigi, Ness, Captain Falcon, Jigglypuff and Samus herself as the 'rulers' of the Mansion; whatever they'd say would go. Samus scratches her head at the reasoning behind that decision, which Master Hand claims to be that since the twelve of them shared the facility by themselves for years, they would know every nook and cranny. It isn't to mention the extensive twenty plus years of renovations that had happened, and the fact that there's fifty plus Smashers on the premises... Samus can only shrug. She has to get into Master Hand's office before he leaves, a little bit later into the afternoon. Unlike the rest of them, the omnipotent being does not fly via an airplane or has to go an airport. He, himself, flies to whatever the destination is.

One time, back during Brawl, Lucas got himself lost in a hedge maze that Peach had built for their annual spring festival, and using PK Fire burned the entire thing down because he had panicked, but Samus is unable to use that. High panic situations normally do not happen for the Mansion. It's when they all leave does the chaos happen, having been elsewhere, in that World of Trophies when Subspace attacked and ensnared fellow members of their own.

Shulk is missing from her collected role call, and Samus is still deeply saddened by that. It is his urgency that the entire mess with the depths had even come to life. Dropping all of her armor on a lunch table... and here's how she repays him by giving him a stasis of hospital care. Everything she had ever felt had been a lie... when the Isle of Ancients is swallowed up whole by its own mass, she assumes it's all over. All the nightmares will cease. All the problems that the Smashers would ever endure would fade away forever. Samus feels like a fool, being trapped in her own glass box where all she sees is her reflection and not the monsters collecting on the other side.

Being the go-getter that she is, Lucina, who's dressed up in her usual battle armor despite there not being any reason to dress so cautiously, prompts the discussion first. "What's the matter Samus? Will told us that we needed to talk."

When Samus comes to her senses, shaking off a bit of the light green light haze, she grips Will by the wrist, who's getting dressed into a hoodie and jeans that the assortment of Smashers associated with the depths needed to talk someplace private. Though there are cameras everywhere, and a dorm room could provide sufficient space, the bounty hunter decides on the ballroom, with its stage in the back. Something about the space's orientation comforts her, as if she could every threat from every which way should something have happened.

She bites down on her lip. Despite being by herself in interstellar combat against creatures that even the darkest imaginations would find terrifying, Samus has taken upon herself the burden of being freaked out and troubled by this disaster. "Something came up last night that I thought was important-"

"Where's Sonic?" Wanda asks.

Samus closes her eyes. It's not even thirty seconds into the conversation and they're already using the S-word. When she puts it like that, it's a swear. Perhaps it should be, anyone's name is accursed this day and age, and it's starting to get to her. She wards off light by pressing her fingers against her eyelids. Sunlight means happiness, and the blonde is in no place to feel happy. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about..."

Lucario shares a glance with Mario. "Is something wrong?"

A shaky gasp elicits itself from Samus's throat, almost akin to that of a sob. Worry crosses Will's face, but he doesn't move. He's grimacing himself, massaging his head with his forefingers. There's an elongated pause, in which Samus winces herself, rubbing her forehead, Wanda passing a look between the two, frowning. Samus shakes slightly, so she holds her body to keep her steady. "Yeah... something's wrong."

"Where is he?" Lucina forges on, perhaps with too much impatience in her tone.

Samus snaps a glare at the swordswoman. She has been getting on her nerves the past couple of days, and she cannot put a finger onto why. It is as if her hastiness and loudness is causing Samus to go skittish or frantic, where she's answering to a schedule, and it's quite antagonizing. She cannot hold onto the thought any longer, the guilt is getting to her. "He's gone!" she cries out, putting her face in her hands. Will runs up to her, rubbing her on the back. Samus is not exactly crying, but she's certainly not smiling about any of it either.

Lucina recoils some away from the four, taken aback by the outburst. Wanda places a hand up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. Mario tentatively steps up closer to Will and Samus, gently placing a gloved hand on her other shoulder not occupied by the athlete. It is Lucario who has the most demure reaction of them all, by simply closing his eyes, placing his paws together. The plumber gently places two fingers under Samus's chin, causing her to look up and into his eyes. She's expecting judgment, for some reason, a reason she will never be able to identify, but all that's there is compassion. His diamond eyes are soft, a softness she's never seen, not even in Will and all of his empathy.

"What do you mean gone?" Lucina demands. Ever the lover of practicality.

"What happened, Samus?" Mario asks, much more gentle than the swordswoman, but he narrows it down to her age to give away her slight impatience.

Samus is the most interested in Will's reaction, since she didn't even tell him when the two woke up. All she had said had been her cryptic message, which he executes faithfully, and she gets her bearings together swallowing painkillers and numerous spoonfulls of sugar - Mary Poppins is a damn liar, she snarls to herself in the murky cocoa liquid - she does not feel any better bearing the pillow pill of Sonic's disappearance. It is not that she doesn't want to tell Will the truth, which he most likely expects to get first and all, but she relents from it regardless.

She sniffles, wiping her nose. Her emotional state must be new to so many of them, for she's always pictured to be solid and composed, not a sniveling crybaby in the corner. It might be, which she's never thought of before, that when it had just been her in the Research Facility on the Isle of Ancients, dodging R.O.B's and fighting Primids, that it had been her and Pikachu only for most of it, if not nearly the entire journey. The electric mouse has got her back, and the two work wonders with it. Here, in the Mansion, this threat is targeting more than just two people, and it's a group inexperienced to tragedy, where Subspace, whilst still tragic, no longer has the same affect it once did just six months since its end versus ten years. Samus finds herself being a modern-day Atlas, all this trouble happening to her and now affecting everyone else where she no longer has control to make sure everyone else escapes safe and sound.

"Around 4 AM or so, Sonic radios me from his walkie-talkie... I had forgotten to give it back to Will," she gives him a glance, and he returns her a comforting smile. They'd all get through this debacle together, she shouldn't have to worry as much as she does. "It woke me up, and he sounded frantic. He said we had to meet on Brinstar, so I went down there. Before I got to the door, I heard him screaming, crying for help. By the time I got inside the stage, he was gone. No other sign of him except his shoes on another platform, unlaced..." Samus breaks away from looking at the rest of them, taking a deep breath. "Perhaps if I walked just a _bit_ faster, or took a bit earlier to answer the walkie-talkie... he wouldn't be God knows where!"

"Samus, it is not your fault," Mario whispers to her, returning to soothe her. "Don't blame yourself for this. Something happened to Sonic and we'll find him."

"You said he was frantic?" Lucario furrows his eyebrows together, eyes still closed, his paws alit with blue flame from his aura readings.

"Yeah..." she whispers weakly.

"How so?"

"Out of breath. Talking very fast..." Samus scratches her arm.

"And you've never heard him like this before?"

"No."

"He's always been calm and collected," Mario comments. "No matter what. It's why I've always enjoyed him."

"Why are you using past tense?" Will frowns. "He's not dead."

"It's just an expression, William-"

Samus squeezes her eyes shut. They're not even fighting, but in her head it sounds like she's standing right behind an airplane turbine as the plane is getting ready for liftoff, with the howl of the wind whipping in her ears, drowning out all other noise; it's deafening and horrible and she wants to be somewhere else other than talking to them. Being back in bed does not sound like a bad option, surrounded by silk sheets and satin pillows.

Will stands up, starting to raise his voice that the usage of past tense has to mean Mario is suggesting something and he's not fond of what's being suggested. Lucina throws her hands up out of frustration; things do not need to escalate the way they are. It's a ragtag team of absolute failures and crazy personalities solving the mystery of Shulk's injury and a disappearing hedgehog. There's an insecure athlete, a has been veteran star, a PTSD galaxy gunner, an immature brat, a neuropathic psychopathic controlling woman, and a beast who can see colors behind the Mansion's worse incident in years.

When Mario slightly pushes the brunette back away from him, he juts a punch straight for the plumber's jaw. Lucario opens his eyes, hearing the hit, his eyes not gleaming the usual sharp and stunning halcyon that cuts through bones, but a shade of crimson. "Gentlemen!" his voice booms, causing the curtains and drapes on the windows surrounding the edge of the ballroom to shake. Power reverbs in the echo, the aura around his paw tips scorching into the air. Will freezes immediately, Wanda marching over to him. Mario gingerly places a hand up against his cheek, which is starting to bruise. Samus realizes that she's shaking, whether it be out of fear or having too much coffee. Lucario's calm demeanor is replaced by an unmatched, iron cold fury. "That is enough! We are not going to get closer to finding any answers by arguing amongst ourselves. We should be listening to Samus and supporting her, because she's the only one who has any idea where Sonic last was," the aura diminishes from his paws, Lucario locking his jaw. "Will, apologize to Mario for hitting him."

"But-" the athlete starts to protest.

"William!" the reverb in the voice returns, much stronger than before, so much that Samus is afraid the ceiling will cave in. "Apologize to Mario this instant!"

Samus sees a battle play out in the brunette's eyes, a confusing game of chess where the king and queen have their roles reversed, pawns are now rooks... and nothing makes sense. "I'm sorry for hitting you, Mario."

"It's alright," the plumber waves it off. He's been around fighting the Mushroom Kingdom's monsters for so long, getting decked in the face by Bowser's fire, and so much more that a punch is probably nothing more than a fly swat. "That was a good hit..."

The eyes flash back to Samus, causing her to jump. For a second all the focus had switched, and it's back to her. She's not used to it all the time, she'll admit. The blonde swallows heavily, a cold chill passing over her body. Lucario seems to relax, the aura completely gone, and the warmness that exudes from his form returns, a gentle and appraising kindness that is the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Samus, where do you think Sonic went?"

If she had an answer, she'd give it. Samus stares at the ceiling for a good ten minutes wondering that very question. She even runs down to the library to see if he would be lying on the carpet unconscious or something, given the presumable link between the portals, which would be the most sensible outcome she could think of. The library is empty, no signs of blue fur anywhere, and looking at security footage proves that Sonic does not come from the library bookshelf like she's hoping for. She shakes her head.

"Sonic did not come popping out of the bookshelf," she says this almost disappointedly, but with a tint of humor behind it. "I don't think the portals in the library and on Brinstar are connected... let alone portals..." Samus's mouth dries up. Lucario furrows his eyebrows.

"What do you think they are, then?"

"Passageways."

The word is haunting, given by the shiver that passes between the six of them, where the hair on her arm stands up straight, goosebumps erupting like miniature volcanoes in a flesh sea. Wanda rubs her arms. "A passageway for what? To where?"

"Whatever comes from the depths..." Samus affixes her gaze on something that does not even exist, a space far away from nothing that touches everything at the same time. "Something out of that passageway, these purple blobs... they took Sonic, I think. To wherever they come from."

Lucario rubs his chin, turning away from her, musing. Mario raises an eyebrow. The Aura Pokemon is thinking, his paws getting covered by a cerulean halo. "Lucario?"

"I think Samus is right," the vulpine says, after a second of silence. "While Will yelled at you, I was checking for Sonic's aura signature. It wasn't inside the Mansion, where I thought he'd be. Extending that reach, he wasn't in the surrounding fifty miles... and I was afraid to stretch that range," he takes a deep breath. "He's somewhere that's not worldly, I think."

The group absorbs that information, like a child finding out that Santa Claus isn't real or that the Tooth Fairy is just your parents. Samus sighs. It is quite the way to start a morning, she'll admit.

Will frowns, rubbing his shoulder. "What do we do about this?" he looks at Samus. "Did you notify Master Hand yet?"

She shakes her head in dissent. "I wanted to let you all know this first."

"We can't tell Master Hand," Mario says, biting into one of the knuckles on his glove.

It's Lucina who turns on the plumber. "You can't be serious!"

"I-"

"You're thinking of covering up Sonic's disappearance?"

Lucario holds out a paw, gentle, non-threatening. "Lucina, I do not think that is what Mario is suggesting."

Samus does not expect this to be the fiery plumber's answer. "Master Hand left late last night instead of tonight. The conference got pushed back by a day, and he was late..." he takes a deep breath. "We're by ourselves on this, not until Master Hand gets back."

"And when's that?" Wanda questions.

"A week."

"We don't have a week!" Samus raises her voice slightly, everyone's attention snapping back to her. "That's too long. We probably don't even have a day! Sonic is in danger and we have to do something. We need to start searching right now!"

Mario makes a tutting noise with his tongue, wagging a finger. "We can't..." she goes to protest, how could he be so nonchalant about all of this, but she's reminded why, "I imagine everyone's forgotten, with the mess going on, that the dance gala is tonight..." and Samus groans into her shoes. Every year, with all of the sponsored events the Mansion has to put on, there's a dance gala - one in the summer, one in the winter - for charity purposes where there's a buffet, a dance competition, a toast, and more to whichever charity gets the most votes. It's usually televised, and Samus cannot believe she forgot all about it. It's supposed to be held in the ballroom that they're in currently, which is why there's the banners and ornate curtains and the rolling of carpets. Mario's eyes sadden. "We can't just postpone this... it's televised after all, and we don't want to raise hysteria with everyone else. This has to remain between us, and we can call Master Hand after its over, and start searching after that. Does this work?"

Samus's heart sinks into her stomach. This is just getting worse and worse, with every passing second. The others pass off rounding answers to some degree, and Mario sighs. She can only imagine what must be going on inside his head. Everyone always looks to him as the leader, in the darkest times, and in the lightest times. He's the co-planner of the gala after all, having been Master Hand's first chance for the very first fighter when the whole shebang had started, to look where it's lead him. Mario is the one put in charge to fight off the evils of Subspace and Tabuu, a position he does not want but he feels partially obligated, and then fully expected to take, so he does, for the betterment of everyone else.

Lucario rubs his paws together. "This is going to sound crazy, but we all just need to go around like normal today. We need to think about who we can tell that won't spread this to the rest like wildfire... as I trusted us six and Sonic with the portal in the bookshelf... this extends beyond that extremely. Does everyone understand?" Everyone nods. "I understand that it's late in the morning and some of us haven't eaten breakfast yet; we should go and do that and we'll reconvene later. Sound good?" Another resonating nod.

Samus had been sitting on the low-rise stage, swinging her legs back and forth. Will crosses back over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"As well as I can be, I guess," she says.

"Everything will be alright, I promise."

"Don't promise me anything," Samus shakes her head, looking at him. "You should've heard Sonic's yell, Will. It was- it was horrifying and he was scared and I couldn't-"

"Stop worrying," Will urges, grabbing her by the wrist, pressing a thumb into her skin gently to get her stop. He feels her pulse underneath the balls of his fingers, a quickening rush of blood only getting worse by her heightened anxiety. "We'll find him..."

The rest of the group is about to broker off when Wanda slaps herself in the head. "I remember what I wanted to say... I've got something to share."

The bounty hunter wants to hold onto a stress ball and place her fist in her mouth, to suppress a scream. Certainly this cannot be good. What now? Has Chicken Little reincarnated and the sky is going to fall on them any minute, killing them all? That wouldn't be a first, which is a surprise and a story Samus does not have time for. All she can do is point any curious person in Ganondorf's direction. She's not quite sure her heart can handle any more bad news, having to spill the truth on Sonic and all. Can she have a break or is this too much to ask from the world?

Lucario raises his head up somewhat, perking at Wanda's words. "What is it?"

"Shulk woke up late last night," she says, without giving it a moment's hesitation.

The feeling is ecstatic, bolts of electricity running amok the top of everyone's skin. Samus feels the pressure on her shoulders get knocked away by a sledgehammer, Lucina's reaction the most heartwarming of all. She holds a hand to her sternum, breathing in, breathing out, a splash of color returning to her face after being so pale.

"He's awake?" she asks excitedly. "He's awake!" Lucina exclaims.

However, Samus sees something glint behind Wanda's eyes. A suppression, a will to want to withhold information, perhaps for a good reason, perhaps for a bad reason. The news couldn't be entirely good of course; there's always something sour underneath a layer of sweet. The athlete wrings her hands together. Will and Lucario must sense the change as well, the former advancing slowly to his sister, the latter tilting his head to the right somewhat.

"Wanda?" Will asks.

"What's wrong, Wanda?" Lucario's tone on the verge of nearly being quiet.

Wands shakes herself, before giving off a smile, a crazed, lucid smile. "Shulk awoke... due to a dream. He says we're in danger, Samus most of all," and her gaze goes directly to the blonde bounty hunter in question. "He says that we're all going to die..."

Great. Just great.

Samus wishes she stayed in bed.

* * *

"What exactly are you looking for?" Mario asks Lucina, the swordswoman standing in the middle of the downstairs library, eyes scrutinizing over the rows and rows of hard-covered books.

"Something to do with Subspace," she replies. It seems that the Ylisse fighter has no couth, spitting out the emissary word as if it is butter off a pan; any other person in the Mansion would tend to the word with gloves, making sure not to break it. Even so, in the safety of the library - perhaps not so safe with Sonic being missing - Mario gives a fearful glance at the shelves, as if something unruly and monstrous is going to break out of it. It's a superstition that's hard to break through, unfortunately. Many deep-rooted fears start at various areas and times.

"And why do you need our help?" Wanda frowns, finishing the descension down the stairs. She switches into something a bit more regal for the ballroom gala, which is in about a few hours, and there's going to be no time between Lucina's mission and getting ready.

"It'll cause things to go faster than just me scouring the shelves," Lucina answers.

After the original ballroom discussion, the group disperses for lunch like Lucario had suggested. Samus and Will went straight to Shulk to talk about the presumable hallucination, and if Wanda Forrest is correct, everyone is doomed to die a terrible, horrible death. Lucina visits shortly afterwards, and she tells herself she wouldn't do it, but she does it anyway where she cries into his arms, happy to have him awake. She says a babble that is incoherent, on the level of ' _I don't know what I'd do without you',_ which is a display of emotion and passion she's seldom ever revealed. What Samus had told her in what felt like a long time ago, now only about four days, is that she loves him, the Monado wielder.

She's always liked him, Lucina realizes, from afar, watching him duel against other fighters, often fighting shirtless for crowd favors and pleasures. She's always found that to be silly, having to pander to the fans, but she comes to terms with the fact after denying it on the regular that she'd only go to watch the matches he had been in to see if he is going to be shirtless. Absolutely childish, her heart understands. Lucina wants to believe that she'd never approach him because it has been engraved in her head for so long that because she comes from a royalty background, and that Earth, or specifically Washington state is not Ylisse. She has flings and her heart goes out for people in her own world, but not with someone on Earth where it is beyond transient and can be ended in seconds.

Of course, her bantering with him is disguised as loose flirting which she's horrendous at because it's not in a court setting or anything like it. It's a sword in hand, a fist formed with the other, gunning for a defenseless part of his body. Lucario visits Shulk shortly after she arrives, to discuss this hallucination, and he recounts the terrifying feeling of being held in a chokehold, a chokehold by a power he cannot understand. All he knows is the motives, or possible motives from the depths warning the end is nigh; the end is near.

Instinctively she puts a hand on Falchion's hilt immediately, eyes gluing themselves to the wall to check that they're okay. When she says goodbye to Shulk, which is actually quite painful, Lucina is laying on her back in one of the Mansion's many gardens, staring up at the cerulean sky, just staring. Not thinking, really, just gazing upwards and enjoying the beautiful view. She's struck by a thought like being hit with a lightning bolt, sitting upwards so fast it scares a caterpillar and Yoshi, who's slumbering under the shade of a nearby oak tree.

Shulk describes the figure that had been speaking to him as amorphous, shifting between various Smashers he knew, Samus being the one that would be changed to most often. When he recalls seeing everyone dead, Lucina notices that Lucario is the only Smasher left out, since the blonde mentions the entire group involved in the depths mess as of late, including himself and Sonic, alongside Wanda, Mario, Will, Samus, and her... but no Lucario. There's gotta be something to connect it all to, and it's how she's led to go and look in the library for information about the Subspace Emissary, in which she's heard the stories, but research could spell everything else out.

Mario is giving dance lessons to Wario in the ballroom, since the motorcyclist arch-nemesis is eyeing a certain viridian haired goddess, and Lucina drags him away to spare the plumber from the smell of garlic and five week-old moldy cheese. Wanda is stepping out of the shower in her dorm when she knocks, arriving to the door with her hair wrapped up in a towel. She cannot find Samus or Will, assuming the two are together off somewhere, and Lucina is not even fully considering the bounty hunter on wanting to learn about the incident since she herself went through it like Mario, and that the depths with their expert targeting system could do something drastic while looking.

Lucina does not know what she's specifically looking for, but she's got a bit of time with the entirety of the library at her disposal. The chess set from her game with Lucario is still sitting in its prime position, her eye twitching slightly at it, reminding her of that ole loss with her teacher, the Pokemon that can wipe her win streak in five moves... it's absolutely demoralizing.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Mario rubs his chin.

"No, I don't," Lucina smiles cheekily. "If I did, I wouldn't be down here." She weighs perhaps asking Mario over her ham sandwich for lunch, to then she does pose questions, but the plumber admits that it's been a bit that his memory is only slightly fuzzy about it, which she views to be a good reason. Lucario is still with his visit in on Shulk's hospital room, and Lucina does not wish to disturb him.

"Great..." Wanda mutters. "None of us know what's going on, so none of us know what to look for."

Lucina can tell that there's something else weighing down on the brunette's mind, but she does not press the issue. It seems the Forrest siblings are extremely high strung at this moment of time and the last thing the Mansion needs is a brawl between its Smashers outside of a friendly, ordained match. Wanda may think she's a safe, but Lucina can look straight past it all, past the façade, to where the gears are turning and smoke is pouring out of the athlete's head, giving away every single sneaky thought. The bluenette also picked up on a piece of interesting chemistry between Will and Samus. The two have always been nice to each other, comfortable around the other, where he looks at her sweetly, and she teases him, but this morning is different. Despite the high stress level situation, which has all of them on edge and strung up by their toes, whenever Will is by Samus's side, she relaxes visibly, shoulders lowering and all. Whenever they look at one another, there's a glow in Will's eyes, even if the facial expression is that of sadness. Lucina grins to herself. It's the budding of romance, having pushed Sonic for information, that the two went on a date last night, and if Samus with her constant shifting on the stage is anything to go by, Lucina's got a mind to ask out loud the reason for the debilitation, but that would be highly unprofessional.

It's not like Lucina has ever cared about being professional however.

"This might be good for us!" she says optimistically. "You never know."

"Let's go look at books they said," Wanda says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It'll be fun they said."

"It will be fun!"

"More like tedious."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Going to the zoo," Wanda mutters. "That's fun. Skydiving perhaps. Not this..."

Lucina opens her mouth to smarmily retort, but Mario beats her to the punch. "Then you need to get out more, Wanda," he quips, smiling for his old age is worth.

The swordswoman giggles to herself, bounding over the chess table to rush towards the bookshelf where the portal is. As far as she's aware, from Lucario's word of mouth, only the Pokemon is able to interact with this particular portal. Why? She has no idea, but there's nothing wrong with testing it. Behind her, Wanda and Mario are locked in a petty, childish, and friendly argument over who has had more experience in the world regardless of age. Mario's seen space, he's seen all of the Mushroom Kingdom and its beyond, and it's where he has Wanda beat.

Fingers plait the book spines jutting out, pushing them back into place. Lucina chews on the inside of her cheek. Something's wrong with the picture, though she cannot figure out what it is. She presses her hands up against four books at a time, hoping, half-expecting her fingers to vanish into an amaranthine blob like Lucario. She remembers that when Samus had told them about the depths, she had approached the bookshelf and her mentor sharply advises against touching the shelf. It's a question Lucina is going to ask Lucario when she gets the chance, as his erroneous behavior is unusual. Perhaps he's simply being protective and doesn't want this supernatural entity or monster to exert more control on her, which actually does sound like the right reason.

" _Okay, you've got this,"_ Lucina tells herself in her head, " _Where was Lucario prodding to reveal the portal?_ " she muses, eyes scanning the bookshelf for the umpteenth time. Since the portal itself is a royal shade of purple, then would that mean- yes, yes it would. She widens her eyes. The book Lucario had pressed his paw up against is purple, just like the portal, and just like the creatures Will and Samus described. She looked for the book, backing up some after a moment. Lucina furrows her eyebrows together.

It's gone. The purple book. It isn't there.

That's- that's odd...

Mario notices the change in her mood, walking over to be by her side. "What's wrong, Lucina?"

"Do you remember the color of the book that held the portal on this shelf?" she asks.

"Yeah," Wanda joins the duo. "It's purple."

"Notice something off?"

It's the plumber that gets it first. "There's no purple book. It's not on the shelf."

Perhaps in the most auspicious way possible, there's a single gap in that part of the shelf, where the purple book must've been located. Lucina looks around the area of the library they're in, frowning. Multiple shelves everywhere have a single spot missing. "This wasn't the only purple colored spine in the library, right?"

"Of course not," Mario crosses his arms together. Out of the three of them, he's been in the Mansion the longest, so he's been in the library more times than them. "There's plenty."

Wanda follows Lucina's gaze over to a set of three shelves resting up against the staircase back up to the main floor of the Mansion. It what can only be described as a pattern, there's gaps missing in each shelf where books would go. Nine books rest in the shelves by the door, and now, on all three shelves, only two books remain up against the far sides, seven missing in the middle for a total of twenty-one books, six remaining. Lucina's mouth dries up. The books are a lighter shade of purple, perhaps an indigo.

"Weren't these the encyclopedias?" Wanda frowns. "A-Z, and then a book on numbers?"

"I believe so," Mario nods. "Lucina?"

She's not looking at the bookshelf anymore, bounding back over the table holding the chess table to go towards the registration desk. Despite it being a library open to anyone, often times Master Hand likes there to be organization with it all. Peach often enlists the help of her Toads of all assorting colors to act as librarians, which Lucina finds extremely endearing. What she's looking for is the book registry list, which, like all libraries unless they're in a person's private home, require a sign-in and sign-out sheet. Everyone follows it, even the 'villains' since Master Hand opines that if something is off on a tightly-run ship, everything's off and no one wants to face the Hand's wrath outside of Final Destination. A slap from the being hurts without the protective shields and damage meter. The last time someone checked out a book to bring it upstairs is Ryu, six days ago, a book about chi and a third eye and the chakra energy deal. This is the latest recording, and no one else has written down twenty-one encyclopedias being missing. In fact, if there is truly an absentee of all the purple spine library books, they'd be written down, but there isn't. Those books else on the list have been returned since then.

This all seems too elaborate to be a prank.

While she's looking at the registry, Wanda and Mario were going around the library, checking all of the other shelves they could see. They return back to the center, in front of Lucina, who closes the registration.

"Well..." Wanda starts, seemingly out of breath.

"All the purple spine books are gone," Mario adds. "Not a single one remains."

Lucina's arms go cold with goosebumps. There's no way any of this is coincidental, with something as harmless as book colors. Unless it is not harmless to begin with. She presses a hand up against her chin, squeezing her eyes shut. "You don't think... you don't think that-" it seems she's having trouble to get this statement out. She swallows heavily, her mouth dry. "The book Lucario touched had been the portal. What- what if _all_ these purple books led somewhere?"

Mario's face loses all color. "No... that would mean-"

"Multiple gateways..."

Something itches at Wanda's thoughts, and she breaks from the two of them to go over to the encyclopedias that are left. She frowns, pulling them off the shelves and placing them on the nearest table. Lucina and Mario cross back to her, with the books laid out alphabetically given their location. On the table is the encyclopedia book 'D', the letter 'E', then subsequently after that 'H', 'P' 'S' and finally 'T'.

"What is it?" Lucina asks.

Wanda rubs the back of her neck. "I think these books spell a word, but I- I don't know..." she furrows her eyebrows together. "Wait a second..."

Her hands scramble the word together, her mind forming the anagram onto the table. When she's finished, Wanda widens her eyes, Mario claps a hand up to cover his mouth, and Lucina's blood goes ice cold. There's no way any of this is a coincidence. A word is indeed spelled out on the library table.

D

E

P

T

H

S

Depths.

No way.

The leftover encyclopedias, in a color closest to a shade of purple, spells depths.

The other books taken from the library without being recorded, which Master Hand would notice had he not been on vacation, their spines are purple.

Mario lowers the hand from his mouth. "You don't think this is a prank?"

"No," Wanda shakes her head.

"Not a prank," Lucina agrees.

"Whatever is in these depths means business," all of Wanda's hair stands on end. "And they're about to do something big."

* * *

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

His lungs are laced with a gelidness that can only be described as fear, an iron cold fear that lances through his heart, seizing his throat, and crushing him underneath a vice-like grip. It can only be described as evil, there's no other word for it, no other word in the human language for it.

It is an evil that scrapes over his skin, dragging cerulean with it wherever the evil goes. One that builds and builds inside someone's heart that leads them to go on a shooting spree inside banks or schools. It is the anger that people rebelling against the crown experience, where he's identified with this pain before. Where fires lacerate curtains, eating up the material, effigies of important leaders being torn down, crumbling, breaking, crashing.

All the memories before this moment are a blur. A blonde-haired maiden, smiling sweetly, pressing mortal technology to her ear. Someone with the same hair color thrashing and convulsing in a bed surrounded by pallid walls and covered in pallid sheets. A man and woman talking together in hushed tones underneath the shade of an oak tree, looking very similar together, dressed alike, their hair the shade of the tree trunk. A young lady swinging a silver blade back and forth, the glint of her navy hair reflecting off the singing steel as her hands trace over the edge, droplets of cardinal splashing to a stone platform underneath. A creature, that is all that can be used, surrounded by an aquamarine halo, eyes glinting halcyon, beckoning a paw forward, eyes murderous.

What remains through the murk are two shoes, bright scarlet in color, white laces laying up against a platform left desolate and alone, as the stage gurgles and squeals, lava rising up and ensnaring the shoes in its burning grip. Their owner falling, falling, mouth open in a scream as tendrils curl around his throat, pulling him downwards, downwards, _downwards,_ until there's nothing but blackness.

Thunder and lighting crash in a sky surrounded by a light ruby haze, where the ground cracks with shards of crystal embedded in between. Crystalline wings spread out, shards of different colored glass crashing towards the crystal ground. A petunia colored chestnut center as the wings shoot off waves of alternating crimson and black. Hollow figures, an undead army with crimson stares and green bodies, unmoving, at the beck and call of an emerald robed symbol atop a crag.

It's all that's here, stuck in a place where time has no end.

Stairs lead up to a magnificent sphere, surrounded by pictures from a world long ago forgotten. These stairs are see-through, but not made up of glass like expected. A white blob in the background lays there unmoving, emotionless, scarlet surrounding it. The stairs seem to extended in one direction forever, blotting out endlessly into the sphere, which emanates a glow like some sun elsewhere in the galaxies.

Dots of amaranthine shadow clasp to each other like atoms forming molecules, molecules creating cells, cells creating tissue, tissue creating organs, the organs making organ systems until life is born. Not a life of the mortals, though, that is an entire sector of creation tainted by greed and shallowness. This creation comes from the winged man hiding behind the sun, where crystal walls protect him and his chestnut heart. As flaxen-winged beasts screech, their cries fill the sky, an empty, hollow sky. All the light emanated from this sphere, until it no longer remains, trapped underneath a lava sea, consuming itself whole.

At the center, at the center dictating all of this without ever speaking, without ever moving, is a core. It is unable to be described as anything else using humanistic terms. It is flesh-like in color, like the stage's walls with the purple portal, a strange shape inside the circular mass cut into four sectors, each reflecting a different color, a different scheme. This is where the evil comes from, at the core. An evil that does not need to speak, it does not need to move.

It purely exists, and that gives the vileness its purpose. An undefined purpose, but one nonetheless, using the portals above as an escape route. As it needs to give the humans clues along the way towards what it is, what it is doing, since the human race is not smart enough to figure it out all by them lonesome.

Someone else exists now, coming out of nothing, comes from above, but not by their own designee. They lay on the crystal shard ground asleep, locked in a slumber with an eternal nightmare where tree branches extend into witches' claws, where a cackling fills the air. The form struggles against the bonds of their terror, lashing out, muttering in their sleep, their chest rising and falling with insipid breaths.

This is all ordained. The center wishes this to be the case, that it is all by design that this happens here and now, then, because it can.

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

Punctured by the cold, the center calls him to it. See the paragon in its own creation, the pale, flesh-like organism.

It is created by atoms making molecules making tissues making organs making organ systems to make life. Where the DNA strand broke in two, broke in two, being cleaved by a hammer, a wake-up-call from the sentient white blob, to _wake._

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

The terrors break, like water rushing up against a rock. The center calls, it calls to him, calls and yearns.

 _To wake up._

Sonic opens his eyes.

* * *

 **It seems like every time I add a new chapter, it's my new favorite of the story... because guess what... it's one of my favorites! Here we are ladies and gentlemen, that was Chapter #13: Superstition, _another_ 8K, woohoo! I'm not aiming for these chapters to be so long, as truth be told I just want to reach 100000 words with 18 chapters, which can be done, but goodness we're getting there and I'm excited. Five chapters remain... how will this all end? A lot has happened, I know. Everyone who cares has been caught up to speed, the Depths are making their play on the chess board, and Sonic has awoken? Where, though? All the clues remain there in his section. I cannot wait for the next chapter, but it will probably be at least two weeks until then as well as then for the next Syrenet update, as I am going on vacation for a week and I probably won't have time to just sit and write. Please review! I'd love to know what you thought of this chapter, and what do you predict will happen next. I'll see you all next time with Chapter #14: Altercation. I love you all so very much! Have an amazing day, and Happy 4th! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


	14. Chapter 14: Altercation

**Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter of Brinstar Depths, Chapter #14: Altercation. With only some few chapters left before the end - thank you Stannis for that grammar lesson - *drumroll in the background* what can this mean for our squad? Last chapter was one of my favorites for the story, where things have happened and Samus is paranoid, Wanda believes the Depths are on the move, and Sonic is somewhere stuck with something... mystery abounds! This chapter, for those familiar with Syrenet, is in the style of the fourteen chapter, Damaged Dinner. It was a 9k chapter (like this will be), and was character on character interaction, and I wish to replicate it. Enjoy Chapter #14: Altercation!**

* * *

 _"I've been fighting to be who I am all my life. What's the point of being who I am, if I can't have the person who was worth all the fighting for?"_ ~ _Stephanie Lennox_

Even though the ballroom atmosphere has climbed to its highest peak in terms of happiness, Samus cannot resist throwing glances at every open exit and the windows for possible escape routes. She's never been one to shy away from a party, as she's been one of the highest pushers for the Mansion to dances and galas as often as they can, but with the Depths situation jumping from a possible threat to an absolutely eminent terror that needs to be dealt with, the bounty hunter can push aside joy for caution. She stands on the fringes of the ballroom, while the music swells around, Smashers and TV personnel milling around, dancing, drinking, eating, and conversing. It has a certain charm to it that is hardly ever replicated any other time at the Mansion.

During times like these, Samus cannot resist going for the open bar, requesting a margarita on the rocks. Salt is a wake-up call for the tongue, and she may need that. It's been difficult to wipe the fog from her vision, Sonic's face always trying to reappear in the worst moments. Lucario's orders are cleared... try thinking about something else for the time being, try and enjoy the evening, and not to worry the other Smashers who are clueless. There's a single, rehearsed response for the six - Samus herself, Will, Lucario, Lucina, Mario, and Wanda - that the hedgehog is sick of a cold and does not want to get anyone sick, opting to watch rom-coms and murder mysteries on his TV. Shulk is still laying in the hospital for one more day of check-ups, Dr. Mario staying behind as well to monitor him; dances are not the medical professional's field of work.

Samus keeps her drink close to her, only taking sips from it for personal purposes. Everyone is in their tiptop shape, and she's quite impressed; sometimes, looking at certain friends of hers, she'd never expect they knew what cologne or deodorant or a shower is... given their demeanor. She mulls over her wardrobe, with the very exclusionary selection of dresses - limited, after all - and nothing is really speaking summer to her, so she abandons the notion. It would be fun to go in a tracksuit, and it's not like Samus isn't used to sticking out like a sore thumb, but one of the reasons why the Mansion has these dances is to display unity to the world. If she is not to go along with it, joke or not, that paints a poor picture of not just herself, but everyone else. Samus is not a fall guy.

Against her better judgement, she knocks on Zelda's door three hours before the dance. The queen of Hyrule is already dressed finely in her own sepia and carnation pink backless dress, one of the usual Smashers who'd fit the category of being a normal human who books a plane ticket two years in advance before the actual flight. The queen drags Samus in by the wrist, and for the next two and a half hours, she's gone through a whirlwind of powder, makeup, perfume, silk, and the whirring of a hairdryer. The end result is nothing short of fantastic, and as she stands in the mirror, Samus touching her hips whilst staring at her reflection, she has to agree. It is not that Samus Aran shies away from femininity, of course not, but there's seldom ever a moment where she desires to don and dress and high heels and work her curves. The outfit Zelda ends up picking for her is another backless dress, a sky blue in color, that clings to her hips. Her hair is curly, a bobbed wave of lemonade, with her sparkling gaze, and Samus feels alive.

Probably more alive than she's ever felt in months, given the circumstances.

As she shies away from the main crowd, as she still is not huge on necessarily leading any conga line or hoe-down, Samus rests up near the bar, a comforting distance where all she has to do is stick out her drink towards the bartender - she won't do _that,_ she has manners, after all - and get a refill. That's what Peach does, Samus loves how the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom acts like no one sees her, where the perfumed pounce - Samus does not harbor any hate towards Princess Toadstool - where she sits down haggardly, holding out her hand, and taking vodka shots before jumping back into the fray with Mario.

Samus catches his eye from across the other back of the ballroom, Will caught up in conversation with Mac about something probably nonsensical, and it seems to involve a lot of gesticulating. The athlete places a hand on Mac's shoulder, bids an adieu, and crosses over to her. Soreness and a twinge of pain flares up in Samus's thighs closer to her waist momentarily, as he makes his way. Samus gives him an eye up and down, whistling lowly. He's handsomer than their date yesterday, if that's even possible. A different suit, this time a deep crimson, a gorgeous color accentuating the watch on his wrist, and the delicately pallid dress shirt underneath. His emerald eyes twinkle in a welcoming manner when he reaches her, a glass close to Will's chest.

What comes out of her mouth is not 'hello', or 'how are you', but...

"What're you drinking?" Alcohol is a great conversation starter, most definitely.

"Water."

Samus raises an eyebrow. "Water?"

"I drank way too much last night," Will offers as an explanation, perhaps a weak one at best. "Besides, if there's going to be any dancing, I need to be ready and focused. Don't want to make a fool of myself on television after all."

"We're all used to it," and she takes a sip, the liquid burning her throat as it passes down. Samus runs a finger around a tiny bit of the rim, licking the salt off her finger. "I've made a fool of myself at least four or five times at these. The kids are worse." By that, she's referring to Lucas, Ness, the Ice Climbers, Toon Link, Pit, and a few others. "Lucas got his pants pulled down by Toon Link giving a cute little toast," the bounty hunter shakes her head, cracking a grin. "Poor kid. We couldn't get him to come out of his room for a week."

"And Toon Link's punishment?"

"He couldn't brawl for three months, and some other restrictions," and judging by Will's reaction, he's clearly confused. "A three month ban on brawling is a death sentence. Master Hand forbade that Toon Link train, so he fell behind the rest of the pack. A death sentence."

Will nods, drinking his water. Samus scoffs to herself, though she is not quite so sure why. Actually, yes, she does know, and it's quite childish. He's perfect, dammit. Too perfect. Knows to not get drunk in public situations, even though every adult in the compound besides Lucario or Yoshi is doing it. Yes, that begets the nonsensical argument of 'I did it because everyone else is doing it', which Samus herself is at fault for, actually, but regardless. She boils it down to the fact that she feels that Will does not know how to let go.

Well... she can rephrase that. The things he could do with his fingers and tongue last night prove he can release himself, but that's a whole different matter entirely.

He gives her the up-down stare, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You look beautiful tonight."

"It's Zelda's," Samus admits, clinging to the base of her dress, which only goes a bit further past her kneecap, actually being quite short. It's tight on her, and she didn't want to say anything since it could come across as rude, and if there's ever a time where the blonde goes to Zelda for wardrobe guidance, she can cross the backless blue off the list, which there's no harm in. "But, thank you," she gives a light laugh. "So do you. Red suits you."

"You just made a pun," Will takes another sip of his water. Samus rolls her eyes, sticking out her tongue. Oh bless him, even when he tries to be funny...

She's about to turn to the bartender so her margarita can be filled up when Will grabs her shoulder. It isn't rough, but she's not expecting it, and she jerks somewhat, head shaking out of surprise. When Samus looks down, his fingers are splayed around the elbow on one hand, fingers hooked underneath her clavicle with the other, almost as if he refuses to let go. The fear in her eyes diminishes, he's not trying to hurt her. Will leans in, to speak so no one else can hear.

"We never talked about last night..." he says, his voice low, speaking at a slow rate.

Samus searches for any emotion in his eyes, coming back with a rather place able sadness. Not regret, perhaps a twinge of fear. She's no fool, last night entails their bedroom conversation and then... after. A shiver races through her, excited, chilled, demanding, that wakes up the synapses, electricity crackling at the fingertips. She still has no idea what she's doing when her hands go to his jeans, removing the button, pulling them down, down, _down._ His fingers plait the back of her spine, pushing in with such a tenacity, such a force that a fire envelops in her stomach, erupting elsewhere, as she breathes in, breathes out, exhales, and life fills her veins.

Even when the shadows touch the ceiling, the rutting of their bodies in tandems of passion, as Will falls to one side, breathing deeply, sweat pooling in his sternum, Samus riding cloud nine, cloud ten, all the clouds out there... a thought of lingering doubt still remains. But, why? Samus hasn't been committed like that to someone, and especially not on a first date.

She grips his wrist back. "I don't think it's an appropriate time to discuss that..." she says.

The look of heartbreak on Will's face is enough to stop a serial killer in their tracks, the way his eyebrows down themselves together. Samus blinks, as his pity is a weakness of hers. "But, Samus-"

"Will, please," she urges, placing a hand up against his chest. It's a motion of stopping him from trying to pursue an avenue she does not want to necessarily trapeze down yet, but also an excuse to touch him. Her hand is right above his heart, feeling the hammering inside, a constant _drum, drum, drum_ that matches the roar of blood in her ears. It's almost sickening. Samus drops her hand, placing her margarita glass on the bar for the bartender to take and clean.

It's a shameful feeling that buries itself deep, a bitter seed, before washing over her, as Samus meshes into the crowd.

"Samus!" Will calls, instantly reminded of that day a week ago when he ticks her off mentioning Subspace out on the terrace. "Samus, wait!" However, his voice is lost under the thrall of the excited band in the corner, piano drifts and violinic bursts filling the air. Conversations do not cease, only more begin. The words of protest die in his throat, and he can feel himself on the urge of crying, but he keeps himself from doing that.

He's on TV after all.

As Will stands by the bar, out of words to say, he can feel eyes staring at the back of his head, but he does not turn. The intruder of his personal space is his sister, Wanda, a glass of brandy in her hands. Unlike her pristine brother, she knows how to unwind occasionally, and this is one of those occasions. She tilts the drink to her lips, smirking. It is not because she's happy that her brother is running into trouble, goodness no, she's not spiteful. She's smirking because _she_ knows. She knows that Will, bless him, does not understand the situation, does not know women and how to fix them... Samus is a complicated piece of machinery, and nothing he's going to try to do will work.

Lucina joins her, under the age to drink, clad in a more formalistic battle gear instead of dress, and instead of Falchion at her waist, she's clipped a pair of small daggers to the hem of the garb at the hips, hidden underneath the cloak. Like her, Marth is dressed more finely than in a suit, and a few of the other foreign dignitaries from other worlds mirror the stylistic choice. Nothing is in her hands, again the legalistic purposes of the United States constricting her. If this is to be Ylisse instead, Lucina cannot say she is to stay away from a good ole keg of rum.

"You see that?" Wanda whispers to the swordswoman, indicating her brother.

"Girl trouble," Lucina snorts. "He'll never learn."

"No, I don't think so," the athlete says, sadly, looking down, before taking another sip of her brandy. The bluenette is eyeing her, even when the glass returns back to the normal position of flatness, as if she's expecting the glass to shatter within seconds.

"You drink?"

"Unlike my brother, I _know_ how to have a good time. Besides, two drinks won't cause fifteen years of fitness to deteriorate overnight," she winks, tossing the remainder back, the liquid burning her throat as it goes down. It's a man drink, Wanda scoffs to herself, and here she is, in a formal event, drinking a man's drink. Take that societal expectations.

Lucina turns to her side, so the next statement she says is not caught by anyone else in the crowd. "I think this might be inappropriate, but have you noticed him?"

"What do you mean?"

"With _her_ ," the swordswoman urges.

Wanda lifts an eyebrow. _Oh,_ the her is referring to Samus. She saw it. She felt it. She knows that Will may very well be in over his head, but they're both adults now and she's not going to run over there and help him deal with his problems. It's slightly contradictory, as she mentions the whole 'Samus is mad at you' just a week earlier for his brawl, but this is different. There isn't a true and tried chemistry between her brother and the bounty hunter just a week ago... but a lot can happen over seven days. Wanda chews on the inside of her cheek.

She still cannot figure out for the life of her why she is so against Samus. It's inherent, where she enjoys the blonde's company, and they go for runs or work out together, but the moment Samus looks at her brother in any sort of romantic sense - and she's seen the glances, the flirting, an occasional text message, she's not blind - the claws come out, and a sense of hostility builds in her tone. She does not dislike Samus, at least not in the literal friendship or existing state; the woman is resourceful, gorgeous, kind, and all around enjoyable... but perhaps it's the feeling of too much baggage. Having too much of it is not a good sign for anything to come.

The brunette gives Lucina a forwarded look. "What are you trying to imply?"

Lucina shrugs. "I don't know the first thing about love," and Wanda narrows her gaze. That bluenette swordsman is smitten with it, Shulk written all over her face in the way her eyes reflect a similar emotion to how Shulk's eyes work. Bull crap that Lucina does not know anything about love, she's felt it, or at least tried to. "But I noticed earlier today, there was something between them. I- just... _different._ "

"Didn't they go on a date last night?"

"They did."

"And do you think..." Wanda's voice trails off, not finishing her thought aloud, but she finishes it off in her head. It is a statement that already proves its truth the moment she thinks it. Her brother and Samus slept with one another after coming home from their date. It's the detail that Samus left out of her explanation of events to the gang earlier, that she had been awoken from her room with Will in her bed, both naked, because they both had sex. Wanda knows when a man feels like he's being strung along, and it's a reality Samus is not ready to face. It isn't as if Wanda dealt with hers gracefully, either.

Lucina's gaze is telling, and all she does is shrug her shoulders. "You never know... maybe..." and she wanders off, with her non-alcoholic beverage, sticking out like a sore thumb between the designer dresses and fancy tailored suits. Wanda's gaze keeps up with the bluenette's path, and she lifts her glass of brandy to her lips.

Oh. It's empty. Wanda frowns. That needs to be fixed. With resolve, she walks over to the bartender, slapping her glass on the countertop, patting the granite, giving her biggest grin she could muster. "Fill her up!"

Now moving through the crowd, away from the bar, Samus catches Wanda's gaze, expecting cold hostility, and the blonde does not know if it's because there's brandy flowing in the other woman's veins or what, but she's surprised to sense a warmness that has been absent for the last few days, moments full of embitterment that are completely out of character. Samus looks away after holding the gaze for too long, swallowing heavily, hands free from leaving her margarita on the bartender's lane.

Samus hitches her dress up somewhat, which is so silly given how it does not come anywhere close to the ground to consider it getting dirty. What is so ironic about the whole thing is that the bounty hunter cannot see someone so regal as Zelda, the Hyrulian princess, wearing anything this scandalous. To be perfectly honest, Samus only throws it on because she is not wanting to go through the peanut gallery of dresses, combing through things she knows she won't like, and that'll get tiring very, _very_ fast.

She's about to reach the other side where the ladies room is when someone grabs her shoulder, pulling themselves closer to her. When Samus turns around to see who it is, Lucario has pulled himself into her personal space. Like Will, Lucario has not been drinking; the things that Pokemon eat and drink have always confused her, but since she's not one of those in that world, she leaves it be. Some things are meant to be left unexplained. The Aura Pokemon is not wearing a suit or anything, nothing humanistic at all, except for a single article of clothing that does raise some eyebrows, and even Samus cannot help but stifle a laugh.

He's dressed in a bathrobe. Not even kidding, Lucario, the serious teacher that he is, dressed in a bathrobe. Samus has seen it all, she can't even believe it. Lucario smiles warmly, the navy aura still glowing around his paws.

"I see that party life suits you," he says warmly.

Samus hugs herself somewhat, tilting her head to the right. "I- I have to ask," and she bites down on her lip so she doesn't burst out laughing. "Why a bathrobe?"

"They're comfortable," Lucario answers, and there's no fault in that answer. "Of course, mortal suits are not my thing, but this bathrobe surely is."

"Any stares?"

"Some," the vulpine nods his head. "I'm wearing it on television, after all. Some of the kids are looking at me with fascination," Lucario's eyes glow a happy halcyon, unlike the intimidating glow from earlier when Will had punched Mario straight across the jaw. "If I, and you know I'm a total stickler for the rules, would do something like this... why don't they?" he crosses his arms. "I saw Ness's eyes twinkle with something. He's got a plan..."

Lucario places a paw on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the remainder of the crowd stuck in the center of the ballroom. Samus is confused why she even does that, going straight to the middle where she's more used to just getting by on the fringes. The two cross over to the punch bowl section, and hearing from Wanda about dances, she's reminded of some Earthly custom called prom, and how there's the restitute punch bowl. Lucario fills up a cup with water, Samus going for some of the ripe ruby red punch.

The two stand side by side against the table, watching the Smashers dance. There's the Ice Climbers just a bit away from them, Popo leading Nana in this cute little country step-together-step sort of deal that they can follow. Link courts Zelda for a dance, and there's Falco... is he _breakdancing?_ Samus may have to revoke the whole bathrobe wearing situation to be less strange than watching a bird pop and lock. It's quite astounding, she has to giggle at that.

The Aura Pokemon sets his water down, running a paw down the bottom of the bathrobe. "Has anyone asked you about Sonic?"

Samus shakes her head in dissent. "No," even hearing the hedgehog's name gets her choked up. There's so much more she could've done to save him. If she does not invite Will to her bed, they don't sleep together, she's asleep faster, she's asleep quicker and it means she's more alert to Sonic's call on the radio. If she does not dwell on the simple things while heading to Brinstar, she may see what Sonic is fighting off when he calls for hope... a thousand and one scenarios flash by in her brain, but she comes up empty, nothing worthwhile in her thoughts. "And I'm glad no one's said anything." The urge for the bathroom gets stronger, Lucario's topic of conversation making her uncomfortable.

He looks at her as if he sees something in her that she doesn't. "Your aura is an off-shade of blue. Almost sea-green."

"And? Does it mean anything?" Samus asks. She knows, since the Pokemon has admitted it, that the aura readings are on a scale, and that they mean terms of villainy and heroism.

"It means nervousness," Lucario nods. "What's making you nervous?"

"You're way too smart that you have to ask me that question." Samus moves herself where she's not cleanly resting up against the table.

The vulpine places his paws together, and the aura flares somewhat at the spikes, their color darkening a bit to a shade of deep navy. "We'll find him, Samus, we'll find him. I promise."

Samus finishes her punch, throwing the plastic cup - it's not very big, actually three or four sips deep - away into the garbage. What comes out of her mouth next is less than stellar, more volatile than sweet. "Will promised me everything would be okay, when we first found out about all this. Look how it's turned out. I highly imagine your promise can be better than his..." and off to the restroom she goes.

Lucario closes his eyes, a tone of sadness to the movement, but he sighs complacently, finishing his water, going back to the crowd. Samus walks into the bathroom, and as she does, Will, who's moved closer to that side of the ballroom to speak to Palutena about their brawl from earlier, the iridescent haired goddess more than willing to talk, his eyes follow, briefly, just for a second, to fall down the end of her dress in which Samus's toothpick thin legs stick out, and he smiles. That's his... somewhat. He's able to say he's a bit confused.

He's holding onto his glass of water for dear life, like a kid holding a stuffed animal. When Palutena detaches herself from the conversation in the graceful manner only a goddess is even able to possess, Will figures that standing out by the restrooms might make him out to be a pervert, and he's not going to paint that picture of himself if he can help it. He settles his water glass on a table, straightening his tie, when an assault comes from behind.

It isn't even an assault, the athlete resorting to a bit of hyperbole because he can. Wanda practically crashes into him, albeit she does it in a more dignified manner, and he's reminded of how their kids and how the bruises get bigger as they get older. He groans to himself inwardly, in his head, that millions of American viewers, and global ones at that are watching somehow, somewhere, on some camera, his sister get the upper hand on him. Isn't he supposed to have instincts?

"Hey, watch it!" he yelps. "I don't own this; I'm renting it. It tears, you're paying six hundred bucks for it."

"I don't have six hundred buckssss…" Wanda hisses playfully, drawing out the word a little too long for what constitutes as normal. That's unlike her. Another glass of brandy is in her hand.

Will narrows his eyes at his sister. "Are you drunk?"

"Might be a bit tipsy..." she bites her lip, looking at him with a 'what are you going to do about it' sort of vibe.

"How many of those have you had?"

"Three... I think..." Wanda slurs.

His facial expression changes from confusion and disappointment to alarm in a second flat. "Wanda! Your tolerance is normally a glass and a _half._ Now you're doubling that... you're a lightweight, remember? You're making a joke of yourself," Will crosses his arms. Apparently this is the time he's supposed to act like the big brother of the two, even though... he can't remember who's older actually, despite being twins. "That's your last one, and I'm shutting you down for the night. I'll tell the bartender to not serve you anymore."

She grimaces, but it isn't out of pain. Her head is registering what her brother is saying, but she is not _registering_ it in the slightest. "Hey! That's uncalled for... don't you know how to live a little?"

Will lightly grips his sister by the arm. She's always been like this with him, annoying and poking and prodding in all the right places, pushing with enough steam to pop one button and the rest fall like dominoes since anger does all the rest for himself. "Not when there's cameras watching us everywhere. I do it in the privacy of my own room, Wanda."

"Like... like sleeping with Samus?" she retorts back, and the world comes to a screeching halt with him. She prods him in the chest feeling the muscle underneath, goodness he's ripped. "You and Samus totally did it last night, didn't you? I can tell." With that last statement, she pokes him in the chest, accentuating every syllable, tightening her grip on the glass. She downs the rest with a satisfying gasp, when he wrenches it out of her hand and places it on the table. Enough is enough.

"Are you sure you haven't had more than you're telling me?" Will furrows his eyebrows together. Maybe there's more than what his sister is letting on.

"Are you sure you're being completely honest with me?" Wanda smirks. "You and Samus totally slept together last night... it's all over your face."

He rights himself somewhat, crossing his arms over his chest. Yes, he and Wanda are close. Yes, he's told her pretty much everything up until just a few days ago. Yes, he knows that she knows pretty much every secret. And yes, she knows that he's madly in love with Samus Aran, but still... how could she piece from one conversation and passing looks in the hallway over the last day what transpired last night? Will looks upwards at the ceiling for a moment so the anger does not consume him. He's already wondering what he's supposed to do with the bounty hunter, and now his sister is going to march up to him, somehow tipsy, nearly drunk, and ask him a question like that?

Will tries his best to look affronted, but it is a mediocre attempt at best. "I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda. You've had too much to drink."

He strides past her, actually rutting her with his shoulder, Wanda scoffing to herself when he marches by. Who pissed in his cornflakes this morning, she wonders. Her eyes line up with the empty brandy glass on the table, her throat tickling for another swish of alcohol, but she looks down at her feet, bites her lip, and walks into the ladies room instead. Keep away from the demons in your head.

Lucario watches Will stomp away from his sister, as he's sitting down at one of the tables, smiling, watching everyone else move. Lucina is in the middle of the crowd, dancing with Roy, the redhead's arm wrapped around her waist as he spins her out and she spins back in. The Aura Pokemon smiles sweetly at the scene; it's quite cute. After Lucina finishes her spin, she and Roy share a laugh, and she disentangles herself from his grip, patting him on the back, seeing her mentor from across the ballroom. The violinist begins to pick up the pace, and the band throws their all into a jive-like piece of music, and Lucario watches as she makes her way over to him, the others left on the dancefloor breaking into a mismatch of messed up moves, some things the Aura Pokemon is not quite sure are exactly what others would call legal.

The bluenette plops herself rather unceremoniously into the chair opposite his, her face still wide in a grin. Her eyes casually flit over the bathrobe, but if she wants to say something, Lucina keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she tries another approach. "Come dance with us!" she says excitedly.

He raises a paw, smiling modestly. "Slow dancing is more my style, Lucina."

"I'm sure we can ask the band to play something slower. It's all been upbeat music so far."

"You don't need to do that."

"But aren't you not having fun?" she places an fist underneath her chin.

"I am," the Pokemon presses back lightly. His eyes gleam halcyon once more as he scans the ballroom. His spirit may be jovial, and his heart lifted, but the voice keeps on whispering, he needs to be paying attention. Something's wrong, something can _go_ wrong, and all Lucario has to do is sense it. He is unable, unfortunately, to distract himself with the company of alcohol and dancing, no matter how much fun everyone else is having. It is not because he's a killjoy, but because he's wanting everyone to leave the ballroom alive, or worse, in a fate like Sonic where one does not know if he's dead or breathing in a cage somewhere. "I'm just observing."

His protégé understands what he's saying immediately, and Lucina locks her jaw, leaning across the table. "Did Wanda tell you?"

The vulpine frowns. "No, she hasn't spoken to me since this morning. Tell me what?"

"We were in the library and the purple book that was the portal is gone," she bites down on her lip. "All the encyclopedias were checked out, and the ones that remained... they spelled depths."

Lucario leans back in his chair. Her words are toeing the line of it sounding entirely stupid and foolish, or either to take it as something serious. After all, he's a practitioner of forward thinking, he's realistic; he's what many of the Smashers consider to be the best at giving guidance, although he is no Psychic-type Pokemon, this cape bequeaths his shoulders now. "That makes it sound like someone pulled a prank."

"That's what I thought," Lucina agrees.

"But then there's Sonic..."

"And the destruction of Samus's armor," and for a second, there's a hint of hesitation in the swordswoman's voice. A hesitance he has never heard before, even when she loses the fifth chess game in a row from the same exact steps. "And Shulk..."

Despite the situation and the adult-like behavior it calls for, Lucario places a paw atop her hand, his disposition warm and pleasant. "You hesitated when saying his name, Lucina."

She furrows her brow in confusion. "So...?"

"You care a great deal about him, don't you? About Shulk."

Lucina stands up immediately as if someone has pricked a thumbtack between her shoulder blades. She pushes some of her hair out of her eyes, biting down on the inside of her cheek. "Enjoy the dance, Lucario," she says, not coldly necessarily, but the tint of warmness contained in her voice from earlier dissipates.

He watches her go, to let him sit, to let him examine and watch the surroundings. The Pokemon taps his paw on the table, going over what she had just said to him. If the book that contains the portal in the library is taken, that means someone or something knew about it, and knew that _they_ knew about it, and he has not explored the option of there being multiple pathways, despite Samus's words floating in that direction, her warning. Does this mean he's incapable of accessing a portal to a dimension in which these strange creatures may be coming from?

Lucario rubs a paw over his snout, standing up. What would the best possible means of escape? From what he can see, there are fourteen entrances and exits along the walls of the ballroom, including the bathrooms, which makes twelve large oak doors riddled throughout. A massive crowd of Smashers, plus a television crew of people who are not affiliated anyway whatsoever with the Mansion, then the Waddle Dees who catered, the musicians... the body count starts to rise, and the more Lucario's heart begins to beat.

If anything terrible is to happen, the outplay of that could be a catastrophe, and it's his job to prevent such a tragedy.

High above the ballroom chandeliers and lights is a rigging set, cables, wires, platforms, a labyrinth of black metal and crosswalks. This is used for whenever the ballroom has to be decorated to that of a stage of some kind, like a play, concert, or other. The many ballrooms in the Mansion are used for a variety of purposes, to whatever the Smashers need on the off-season without brawls. There isn't supposed to be anyone up there tonight; no Toads, no denizens of Pop Star, nothing. If that's the case, then, why, when Lucario stood up, did he see several motions of movement? Movements cloaked in shadow.

In the ladies room, away from the rigging, Samus finishes her business, flushing the toilet and stepping out of her stall. Clutched with her is a tiny purse, having borrowed Peach's makeup bag before stepping inside. Though the bounty hunter is not the first person to laud those who create cosmetic products with praise, she understands the necessity of blush and powder and eyeliner when the situation deems them necessary. She unclasps the purse, about to apply some more blush to her cheeks, when the stall's lock, it being a few down from hers, latches free.

Though there's nothing in any sort of manner to sense hostility, Samus freezes. Stepping out of the stall, in her dress, is Wanda. She nods kindly to the bounty hunter, going to wash her hands. Samus remains silent, focused on dolling herself up for the cameras. Whenever the dancing trickles down, Mario is to give a huge speech to all those in attendance, and then the fellow seven other Smashers who were part of the original group would give their own after that, with Pikachu and Kirby having theirs translated by Lucario and Meta Knight respectively. This will be televised, of course, and she needs to look the part of a presenter, though her choice of dress will indeed be part of the discussion on entertainment talk-shows tomorrow.

She's never be one to shy away from controversy.

Wanda stumbles lightly over to the sink, Samus keeping her eye on the brunette. Is she drunk? Tipsy, most definitely. Pain flashes behind her eyes, Samus gripping her forehead. More memories of last night come back to her. Breathes mirroring each other, exhalation, inhalation, resolution. Hands splaying over exposed hips, an edge of the sheet lapsing to the floor. A hiccup, a single tear, the creak of the bed. A tangle of hair, and flesh, limbs intertwined, a painful lock of white skin and black shadow, a memory of Auschwitz. Sludge kisses placed between thighs, and the blinding pallid glow of a supernova behind closed eyes, stars on the ceiling, their voices rebounding off the plaster. A chill runs through Samus's spine. Electricity that brings her back to life, the machinery spinning once more like clockwork.

She's not a liar. She wants that every single day, for the rest of her life. It has been so long since she's ever been so intimate, and nothing will change that. It's Will, it's someone she's been close to, and yet here she is denying himself a bit of joy, a bit of Pollyanna, but it's not her fault, it can't be. She cannot be guilt trip into jumping into something she's not prepared for, and Samus is willing to chalk love as an ideal situation she knows nothing about.

Samus finishes applying the blush to her cheeks, and when she puts the brush away, it makes contact with her wrist, leaving a smear of flushed fuchsia. She scoffs, placing her wrist under the water, washing her hands again. When she turns the water off, about to turn to dry her hands, Wanda extends a paper towel in her direction, forcing Samus to turn to look at her. She takes it without saying a word, keeping her eyes down. If she is to say anything, that might engage her in a discourse that she is not necessarily ready to indulge in.

The blonde confronts herself with the truth, despite not wanting to. She's been doing this for a long time, where she's avoiding Wanda, and she's avoiding Will, keeping away from the conversations she does not want to have, even though there's no running away from them. Despite speaking cordially with them, no conflict between her and either sibling just earlier that day, in the same exact ballroom, Samus stops herself from engaging. Business is business, after all, but this isn't business, and all Samus Aran is being is a coward. A simple coward, and she has to confront that simple, but revolutionary truth.

Wanda keeps her gaze focused on Samus's dolled up hand, manicured, washed smoothly, porcelain white, and flawless. Her eye twitches somewhat, while the brunette crosses her arms, leaning up against the sink countertop. "Do you hate me, Samus?"

Again, since the bounty hunter is not a liar, she's taken aback by the question, looking over at the athlete with a gaze of trepidation. Samus throws away the paper towel, her hands dried, and she stutters a broken laugh. "I'm sorry...?" her voice hinting with disbelief. Where did that come from? Yes, Samus has her doubts about Wanda when they first meet. Likewise, Will goes through the same motions, and Lucina, as does Lucario, as does Shulk, and as does Sonic. It's how she is, the bounty hunter cannot deny that. Whenever there's a newcomer, before she learns who they are, Samus keeps herself distanced, perhaps a cold that is not mutual for both parties, perhaps more damaging than good, but with all the baggage there is to contain, Samus prefers to not get too close. Everyone is behind those see-through encounters at the zoo with a warning plastered in blocky red letters, _DO NOT TOUCH._

The brunette smirks. "Have I done something to upset you?"

Samus places one hand on the countertop. Her dress is way too tight for this sort of confrontation. It's like the Forrest siblings exist to make things complicated and much more difficult than they need to be. At the base of things, it having been four years as is, Samus is completely fine with Wanda, and most definitely better set is her brother. The unwarranted hostility over the last couple of days, rather in the same day where Wanda is greeting her comfortably for Will's match, to then be giving her death glares by dinnertime is rather alarming, but Samus has never considered Wanda anything other than a close friend. She confides with her about Captain Falcon, and that is enough cause for friendship for life.

"No, of course not. I'm, I-" and she's at a loss for words.

Wanda moves to grab Samus by the hands, their fingers locked together, and if someone is to walk in on them, they might think the two ladies were about to be married at the altar. The brunette places her fingers, rather strategically positions them, over the blonde's knuckles, squeezing slightly. "I want us to still be friends, Samus."

"I do too."

Wanda pushes in a bit harder than expected, causing Samus to waver somewhat. "I have seen the way you and Will look at each other, and I can tell you care for him very deeply."

"I- I thank you..." Samus is unsure exactly how to respond. Is this meant to be taken as an awkward threat?

The athlete smiles sweetly, but her eyes flash akin to that of a viper, green poison lacing through fangs that bite, tear, and shred. "However... if you break my brother's heart, I don't think we can remain friends," Wanda gives a slightly manic look, Samus's heartbeat beginning to race. "You break his heart, and I'll break your neck." She lets go after that, removing the pressure, Samus giving a shaky breath after the pressure is released. Wanda places a hand on the bounty hunter's shoulder, and even if it may be the liquor talking, she believes this sister could very well be out on a devilish rampage. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

Wanda swivels on her heels out of the bathroom, leaving Samus in wondering what the _hell_ just happened.

To tell the truth, she is not quite so sure herself.

As Wanda briskly walks out of the ladies room, only stumbling once herself in her heels, Lucario has gone back to the water and punch bowl station. He fills up another small cup, taking the swig in full, letting it trickle his throat. He's about to leave when Mario crosses over to him, wearing a more glorified version of his typical overalls and stunning cardinal underclothes. The plumber fills up a cup of punch, turning to Lucario, holding out his cup. The Aura Pokemon smiles back, fills another water cup and the two clink plastic with plastic.

"I've never seen the Mansion more alive," Mario admits, rubbing his chin, still wearing gloves on his hands. "Peach is moving with more vivacity than usual."

Lucario hasn't seen the warm glow in the plumber's eyes for quite sometime, and he grins back with a warmness fluttering in his heart, placing a paw on his shoulder. This is good for the two of them, to take a moment of rest and relaxation, but only Master Hand knows the two deserve it. It's been a long and tough road for Mario, when not residing in the Mansion he's saving from entire Mushroom Kingdom, and sometimes, when dire, the entire world from Bowser or someone else's schemes. There's still the unbelievable documented instance when he and Luigi were sucked into Bowser's body as organisms in what the plumber dubs as the 'Inside Story', featuring Bowser where the two actually fought side by side.

"You look happy," the Pokemon comments. It's an observation that does not need anyone saying anything, but he does it regardless, perhaps for the permanence of their friendship.

"I _am_ happy," Mario corrects, pointing a gloved finger in the vulpine's direction. "I mean, can you think of any time when we were all this happy?"

"Maybe the party after Subspace," Lucario says, without a single moment's hesitation. He notices rather off the cusp that the plumber, perhaps someone he is able to consider even his best friend of all the other Smashers in the Mansion - he's well acquainted will all of them, Snake and Meta Knight more so due to their travels, Lucina for obvious reasons - where a certain magnetism draws the two together, a togetherness he has never felt with anyone from his own world... doesn't flinch. Just back in the library discussing the portal with Samus and the others, Mario looks horrified at the very idea of saying Tabuu's name, let alone what the larger word of 'Subspace' contains; a darkness, a darkness that plagues, and a darkness that takes. "We were all just so relieved to have it over with."

The plumber nods, eyes slightly saddening, though with a temperance of nostalgia behind them. That is eleven years ago now, the date sometime in October... and that date could be getting closer still. Mario lost a lot of himself on that emissary, but he'll never be able to explain it in full. "Yes, we were," he chuckles. After he takes another sip of his fruit punch, he pauses, his arm frozen in place, before he places it down on the table next to him. The only reason he is standing here, the only reason _any_ of the Smashers from the Brawl era, Lucario and Samus included, are standing in the ballroom is because of Sonic. There is Tabuu, in his pristine glory, the Great Maze shattered and scrambled across the amaranthine shadow skies, and the wings for his Off-Waves appear again. Dedede is out of timers, there's no where to hide, and Mario's heart _sinks._

Out of the darkness comes a single sound, a single sound like rubber hitting the ground; tires squealing on asphalt, and then something blurs by them, by the collected group of Smashers, so fast that Mario's hat flies off of his head. He's standing there astounded, holding onto Peach's hand for dear life, when this blue blur smashes into one of the wings, shattering it. Shards of stain glass spill into an abyss of nothingness, where life does not exist, where there's only silence and darkness. One wing could still make a wave, though it is a theory Mario has not tested, when the cerulean ball of who knows what spins around in a circle, launching for the other one, shattering it too. Mario's emotions go from disappointment, terror, and elation in a matter of thirty seconds, perhaps the most dramatic change he's ever suffered, when the blur stills on a stalactite in the Subspace ground, where there's no soil, no sunshine.

This blur is a hedgehog, who spins around with his gleaming ruby shoes, and pallid white socks, armbands locking circulation in his wrist, as he then makes a _tsk_ noise with his tongue, loud enough that Mario hears it, directing it at Tabuu. The Subspace creature throws the rest of the Off-Waves again, and that's it, the other Smashers, not even by Mario's order to charge - it's Samus, believe it or not, screaming that they go forward, give the tyrant a doom it deserves - with the blur that the gang comes to know as Sonic the Hedgehog.

Mario is jarred out of the memory by Lucario saying something, though he's unable to hear it.

"What?" he asks again, frowning, feeling upset that he had been ignoring him.

"I asked if you missed it," the Pokemon says once more. "The camaraderie. Sure, we went through a terrible blight, but it strengthened all of us for the better, right?"

The plumber nods, slightly out of it all still. "Yes... yes we did."

Lucario notices the sudden change in emotion, the aura around the tips of the spikes protruding from his paws changing color from the original shade of beryl to a more subdued lightness, almost like that of a clear sky. "Mario? What's wrong?"

"I was- I was just thinking," he admits back. That's all he's ever done. Think. He's thought about many things, about a many things over but there's never much substantiality in any of his ideas. Blackness fills his mind for a moment, whatever sort of happiness he had contained, it's gone without a moment's notice, a single moment's notice that abandons him.

"What about?"

"Sonic..." the plumber relents, sighing deeply. He rubs his arm innocuously, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Lucario looks down at his feet, still wearing that stupid, _stupid_ bathrobe, before placing a hand on Mario's shoulder. "Like I told Samus, and I'll tell it to you now... we'll find him, Mario. He's out there somewhere, with something villainous," and then there's a slight urgency to his tone, and the grip tightens. "I know what you're thinking. Sonic, and Tabuu," the plumber looks up at this, eyes a mist of confusion, however, Lucario's happy to see that there's no tears reflecting back in the other man's eyes. "Without him, this wouldn't be possible. He did all of that and didn't know us. What do you think we're going to do for him taken by something that can't even pale in comparison?"

Mario cannot help but lift his lip upwards in a light, phantom smile. "Thanks, Lucario."

He wants to continue when the band begins to change their music, having switched from their jive like up-tempo, where Lucina is still dancing her heart out in the center of the crowd, to a more melodious rift, the violinist and harp player taking center stage. This only meant one thing. It would be time for the round of speeches to begin, the Smashers would return to their seats, wine glasses in hand, forks digging into the steaks while the original eight spoke, but it is Mario's job to step up to the plate first, to begin speaking and start the ball rolling. Already, at the processional shift in music, some of the dancers and those congregating on the fringes began to take their seats, seniority up front, and a few pulled special favors, with Lucario sitting at the same level of Samus and Link.

The two old friends gave each other glances. "It looks like you've got a job to do," Lucario says warmly.

Mario nods, sharing a more secret smile, a lot larger than his phantom one. "It looks like I do," in which he nods low, removing himself from the refreshments table, and stepping away towards the makeshift stage at the front of the ballroom.

While everyone is taking their seats, Samus emerges from the ballroom ladies restroom, eyes locking with Will from all the way across the laminated floors. He's sitting a bit further back, though the tables themselves seat ten, it is not as if there are people sitting in the nosebleeds. He and she keep their stare, for a moment of time where all that exists is her and him. He's mouthing her name, a whisper on the wind, but she does not react to it. Another time, then, another time. Wanda watches this interaction, sitting right next to her brother, but if there's any impasse of emotion, she does not show it.

The bounty hunter takes her seat, immediately across from her is Lucario, the two sharing a more familiar, more warm exchange. Mario is standing in the middle of the raised platform, dressed finely in his own rendition of the classic overall look he's so associated with, a microphone in his hand, unlike standing directly at the mic. He looks like a stand-up comedian up there all by himself, lost in a storm, a thaw of movement, and Samus is unable to help him. He also has a glass of wine, picking one up, and for everyone there that could drink of the original eight - Mario, Link, Samus, and Fox - three remain, to use as a toast, which is filled just a bit with the murky liquid.

Samus has another drink ordered to her table, in which she grips the skinny neck of the glass like a lifeline. The rest of the Smashers take their seats, some with scolding like Marth telling Ike to stop checking himself out in the mirror, or Lucas tugging on Ness's cute little suit and bowtie, pleading to stop making a scene. Once everyone has instilled order in the room, Mario clears his throat and is ready to begin. The sounds of the camera crew repositioning themselves to get a clear, center picture of the iconic Smasher hits her ears, notifying Samus to their position.

As she lifts the glass to her lips, some movement up above in the rigging catches her eye. She did overhear Rosalina say to Peach and Zelda while holding a cocktail that some of her Lumas had escaped, and very well may be the occupants up in the rigging, so Samus thinks nothing of it, returning her attention to Mario holding the mic.

"Good evening," he greets.

"Evening," a few of them say, like the respectful ones, Zelda and Marth's voices heard the loudest of them all.

Mario tuts his tongue. "I think all of you could do better than that. I said, good evening!"

"Good evening!" everyone chimes in, and for the effort, Samus throws her voice as one of the louder ones out there.

"Before I begin the dedications, like we do at all these ballroom dances, I want to make sure to give our thanks as a Smasher congregation to the camera crew, to the musicians, and to our wonderful Mansion service," in which he finishes saying, dutifully starting to clap, where the others follow suit, Samus's clap loudest of all. "Tonight is our annual spring gala, where we televise it and donate money to a charity of our choice as a way to say thank you since this Mansion and its fights are an amazing source of the world's entertainment... we're giving something back that isn't bruised knuckles..." Samus has heard all of this before, and once more her eyes flit upwards to the rigging. Did something else graze by again? However, Mario is still trucking on. "However, this is our first gala in which Master Hand has to be out on official business for the franchise, so we can continue living in this Mansion, doing what we love," the plumber says, and more clapping follows.

It's all business talk for Samus, rudimentary measures taken so the Smashers don't awake in the middle of the night with the cold barrel of a pistol placed between their eyes, the trigger able to go off whenever since someone refuses to do their part. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger. However, as Mario's speaking, she's not listening to the plumber, not fully. Will's on her mind, with the kisses and the handholding and the date over clinked glasses of Chardon. _I want that..._ she decides, resolutely.

Mario straightens his tie. "Nonetheless, with Master Hand's direction, I am put in charge and we haven't managed to blow ourselves up, so I consider that a success," the audience laughs accordingly, like the good gang of associates they are. Samus places a hand under her chin, trying to focus on the speech at hand. "There's been many things happening this year, 2018 is busy for us, as we know on the horizon, there are the possible plans of a fourth rebrand of this whole Smash ordeal, a fifth order," another dutiful clap. These marketing changes, which often invoke the bringing in of new fighters for the group, where Samus will still possibly be hostile, and a new logo come every four to six or seven years, if they can be helped. The Brawl era begins in 2007, the latest, the fourth edition, the current one, in 2014. "So, I must talk about the Smashers that are present who have been a part of this fourth regiment, and what lies on the fifth."

Samus raises an eyebrow. This is a rather interesting play. "What's he doing..." she whispers to herself, aloud.

"As you know, there are a few Smashers not here in the room tonight. Firstly, we have Shulk, with his Monado. With the incident some days back, involving a glass window pane in the ordinary stadium, in which Shulk being hit unconscious rendered him into a coma... he's recovered, but doctor's orders have forced him to stay in bed, where he's sleeping. My doctorial counterpart is staying behind as well, to take care of him, and may he return to the Brawl shortly..." Mario bows his head. "And the other, else we would have noticed him running around the ballroom hall all night, tiring our eyes, is Sonic the Hedgehog..."

The blonde can sense it in him, in Mario, this change of heart. There's a rehearsed saying, as there is the one he uttered about Shulk and the mess concerning the window pane; it is bad PR for the world to know Samus and her gear is the primary reason at fault, in which she still clings to her pillows thinking about, all that scarred and burnt flesh hidden away by bandages. Samus tilts her head up, seeing it in Mario's eyes... he wants to tell the truth. To drop a bombshell, that Sonic is not sick, but taken by an otherworldly force. To tell the truth, on national television, a broadcast seen by all of America, and then transferring that to the world... its aftereffects will be catastrophic. Mario pauses, swallowing heavily, even starting to sweat.

"Don't do it..." Samus whispers, gripping onto the edges of her short dress. "Please..."

"Sonic is out with a cold, and maybe the onset of a fever," Mario says, and the pressure is immediately lifted off of her shoulders. Dodged a bullet. "He's in his room, and preferred not to join us this evening due to not getting anyone sick. He wishes to not be disturbed and will join the rest of us for breakfast if he's able." He takes his first sip of the wine. "Now..."

Samus is about to listen in, the uncomfortable part of the first speech out of the way, when something catches her eye back in the rigging. It's too large of a bulk for it to be a Luma, and there is no glow around it. That's not a pet star of Rosalina's. It's something worse. Without trying to bring too much attention to herself, Samus looks over at Lucario, who looks back, partially focused on the same area as she, the two alike in their thinking. Samus drowns out Mario's words, using her right hand to pat herself on the upwards part of her shoulder. The Aura Pokemon knows what this means, it always means to look up above the stage. A code blue.

She joins him, eyes widening. That is no Luma, and Lucario even is leaning forwards some in his seat.

"If you will allow me to say..." Mario is speaking, completely oblivious, like the rest of the congregation.

That's irrelevant now, Samus's heart welling up in her throat. There's someone up in the rigging of the stage lights... and when a spotlight passes just barely over them, unless someone had been looking up there like she and Lucario were, they'd be missed. A face entirely shrouded in purple comes into view, and Samus stands to her feet, Lucario mirroring the movement.

A _false._ Samus's blood runs ice cold.

Back in the Subspace days, through the Great Maze, through red doors, gateways to a beyond, are these copies of the thirty-five Smashers in the Brawl era. Dubbed falses by Master Hand, and used subsequently by all the Smashers in reference to them, these falses were exact replicas, with the same fighting style and abilities... only just a tad bit stronger, stronger where that could turn a fight if someone's not careful.

This false comes into view, the color unmistakable. Violet. Blackness. What she's been seeing. What everyone else has been saying.

In the false's hands is a bow, loaded with an arrow, a quiver on the creature's back. Samus's blood turns to ice, eyes constantly moving up and down, ignoring the stares the other Smashers are giving her, those not noticing the problem above them. These devious creatures were all destroyed, all fought back by the Smashers... yet one is here. Her eyes follow the trajectory of the bow... which... oh God.

It's for the back of Mario's head.

Lucario notices it too. "Mario!" he screams.

"Watch out!" she yells likewise, vaulting for the stage. Mario yelps in surprise as the blonde barrels into him, and the sound of an arrow whizzing above her head flies by. The two crash into the stage, Lucario's aura burning through his bathrobe. The other Smashers murmur in surprise, some confusion, some protesting, some even clapping. It's no publicity stunt. Not a publicity stunt at all.

"Samus!" Mario chokes, holding the microphone. "What was that for?"

"A false!" she spits out, looking back where the plumber had just stood. Her tackle moves him out of the way, but what she sees does not help calm her nerves. There's no arrow there, where Mario had stood. There's one, however, all the way in _her_ seat. The false is not targeting Mario, but targeting her instead. She's the one the false wanted to eliminate.

What were Shulk's words in his vision? In his nightmare?

Mario's face goes white. "What did you just say?"

Samus looks back at him, closing her eyes. "We were too late," she says. "We didn't see it fast enough."

The plumber goes to ask what she means by that when the world explodes. The ballroom's walls turn purple, an amaranthine shadow, a furious black, and then they _emerge._ Lucario's aura is a burning shade of cerulean, the most furious it's ever been. The swordsmen have their weapons, unsheathing all of them, forming a circle around the table of children. Ness stands up, PSI powers tingling at his fingertips. The poor camera crew do not know what to do, and Samus forgot for a brief second that they're on television.

Oh... oh crap.

Before anyone else can say a word, falses flood the ballroom, coming from every crevice they can find.

The Depths have arrived.

* * *

 **There we are ladies and gentlemen, Chapter #14: Altercation, of Brinstar Depths. You all have no idea how long I've been waiting to write this chapter... because here we are! The climax, the turning point... and my plot twist. This was the very first scene I thought of with this entire story, despite all the ones out there. This was my ploy the entire time, my single favorite part of the Subspace Emissary in Brawl was those character fights in the Great Maze, copies of Samus, Pit, and others...**

 **I can say there's a slight, very _slight_ inspiration from The Red Wedding. For all my Game of Thrones fans, I'm sure you got the reference. But, wow here we are, sitting with an 11k chapter, written over about four or five hours over the past three days, on and off, and I'm happy its done. Both this and Syrenet are nearly complete, and I'll balance off one another; expect a Syrenet update soon.**

 **Please review! I'd love to know your thoughts to this story, and this chapter in particular... as it's helped a lot in the character part. What's going to happen next, you think? Interested in hearing what you have to say. I'll hope to get back within the next two weeks, perhaps next Saturday, with Chapter #15: Opposition. The end is near, ladies and gents. Have an amazing day! Love you all! Bye!**

 **~ Paradigm**


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